


Stupid Sexy Avengers

by gogglor



Series: The Buzzfeed Listiverse [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Character, But they're funny and mortifying and not even remotely sexy, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Humor, Miscellaneous kinks (not spoiling the surprise!), Tagged "underage" because there are teenage sex stories in here, Team Bonding, The gang tells their most embarrassing sex stories, This is mostly a humor piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gogglor/pseuds/gogglor
Summary: Tony, Steve, Nat, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Jane, and Rhodey all tell each other the funniest thing that's ever happened to them related to their sex lives. If you're interested in hearing the Avengers tell stories about their lives that are funny and mortifying and surprisingly sweet, you've found your fic.Standalone fic.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Betty Ross, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes/OFC, Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: The Buzzfeed Listiverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081472
Comments: 30
Kudos: 131





	1. Good Things Come in Ice Cream Trucks

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing chapter 6 of "15 Things to do in NYC If You've Been Stuck in an Ice Berg for 70 Years" that I decided to write out everyone else's funny sex stories. Takes place a couple of weeks after Steve and Tony's first New Years together.
> 
> Note: This is a standalone fic - it's not necessary to read the other one before this one. This fic also contains no major spoilers for the other one, imo. For those who *have* read the other fic, you'll see a few repeated details here in Tony's and Steve's chapters, but it's almost entirely new and expanded stuff.

“Clint, you are my least favorite Avenger,” said Tony.

It was a mid-January Saturday night, and Clint, Tony, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Thor, Jane, and Rhodey were all seated around the common room, shooting the shit over half-empty beers. Apart from Jane and Rhodey being in town, it wasn’t much different from many other Saturday nights in the tower, except for the remnants of birthday cake on paper plates strewn across the coffee table. Clint had refused any other acknowledgement of his birthday - no presents of any kind, no parties, not even a night out on the town. This wouldn’t’ve been a problem, except Bruce had joked back in December that Tony was lucky his boyfriend’s birthday was July 4th so he wouldn’t forget it like everyone else’s, and Tony had taken it as a personal challenge to get everyone really good birthday gifts this year. And he was ticked that the first birthday of the year was going by with just a cake and an informal get-together in Avengers tower.

“Hey! I thought I was your least favorite,” said Natasha, actually sounding a little hurt.

“Sorry Nat - as soon as I realized I could get back in your good books with a sufficiently rare antique knife to add to your collection, Clint took the bottom spot,” said Tony.

“Not _always_ ,” Nat grumbled.

“What do you use to get back in my good books?” said Bruce.

“Oh you’re easy,” said Tony, “I just call up an exotic pet store and ask for anything new, weird, and slimy they’ve got in the tank this week.”

Bruce looked like he was about to object, then he seemed to think it over, and nodded appreciatively at Tony.

“Actually you’re _all_ easy,” said Tony, who used the top of his beer bottle to go in a circle pointing at everyone in the room.

“Thor, you get literally any tchotchke I can find at the dollar store. Jane, you get whatever equipment you requested that the grant committee refused. Rhodey, you get whatever your wife says you won’t let her buy you because it’s too expensive, and for that matter Gina gets whatever she won’t let you buy her either. And Steve… well, you’re _literally_ easy,” Tony finished with a wink.

Steve blushed a bit, but then he shot Tony a mischievous look and said, “That’s funny, I thought I was hard.”

Everyone groaned and started throwing things at Steve.

“You two are absolutely _disgusting_ ,” said Jane, smiling and shaking her head.

“I cannot believe this is the same Steve Rogers that I met on that helicarrier,” said Bruce, “The one who had to leave the room when I made a joke about dongles. Whatever happened to that guy?”

“He started dating _me_ , what did you _think_ was going to happen?” said Tony, who immediately moved himself to sit on Steve’s lap and wrap his arm around Steve’s shoulders protectively.

“Wait a minute, that’s _not_ what changed, though,” said Clint.

Everyone looked at Clint.

“You want to do something for my birthday, Tony?” said Clint with a smug smile, “Tell me what happened in the Chinese restaurant bathroom.”

Thor, Nat and Bruce immediately perked up.

“ _Yes_ ,” said Thor, “I would like to know this as well.

Tony and Steve looked at each other, an unreadable expression passing between them.

“Um… this sounds… dirty? Should I go?” said Rhodey.

“No, Rhodey, you’re gonna want to hang around for this,” said Nat, who now had that familiar predatory glint in her eye when she was closing in on something she wanted. “About a year ago, before Tony and Steve were dating, all of us went out to eat at a Chinese restaurant and Tony made a dick joke. Steve started an embarrassment spiral and we all assumed it would end with him and Tony yelling at each other, but instead Tony took him aside in the restaurant bathroom to speak privately. Whatever happened in there finally got Steve to stop shutting down every time someone told a sex joke, and we have no idea what it was. We know it wasn’t sex, because Steve’s not the kind of guy who’d do that in a restaurant bathroom with someone he wasn’t going steady with--”

“You don’t _know_ that,” said Steve indignantly.

“Yeah, we do Steve,” said Natasha dismissively, “And any time any of us ask they just brush it off.”

Tony opened his mouth like he was about to brush it off again, but then Steve tapped his knee and whispered something in his ear. Tony’s eyes lit up, and he immediately started whispering something back. Then they both nodded at each other and turned back to the group.

“Ok,” said Tony, “We’ll tell you. But it’ll cost you.”

“But it’s my birthday,” pouted Clint.

“Sorry Clint, some knowledge comes with a price,” said Tony, “Y’see, what happened in there was that I made the case to Steve that sex is, actually, fucking hilarious, and we should laugh at it any chance we get. I supported that argument by telling Steve the funniest sex-related thing that’s ever happened to me. And Steve did the same.”

There was a beat, and then Clint said, “Yeah, I’m going to need to hear these stories _immediately_.”

“And that’s where the price comes in,” said Tony, “Because if we’re sharing ours, you all need to share yours.”

There was a pregnant silence for a moment. Tony had thrown down the fuzzy handcuff, and everyone was giving each other quiet looks of _Is this really happening?_ and _Who’s in?_

“Nothing said leaves this room,” said Rhodey, who phrased it like a counter-offer.

“Well duh,” said Tony, “Jarvis, if we get an agreement, wipe all records of anything that transpired in this room starting 15 minutes ago and continuing until we all leave.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jarvis.

There was another pause, and then Bruce said, “Alright, I’m in.”

“Me too,” said Thor.

Eventually, everyone signaled their agreement except Clint.

“Clint honey? It’s your birthday gift. You’ve got to turn your key before we launch this nuke,” said Tony.

Clint hesitated, then said, “As long as I go last.”

Tony’s eyes flashed with an impish gleam, but it was immediately displaced with his usual confident swagger.

“Works for me. Alright, I’ll start.”

***

“All you have to do is tell me where Dad hid the keys, Jarvis,” said Tony, “If he asks, I’ll just say I stole them and you’re none the wiser for abetting a minor for driving without a license.”

“Sir didn’t hide the keys. I did,” said Jarvis with that horrible glint in his eyes he got when he wasn’t externally smirking (he would never be so unprofessional), but internally he absolutely was.

“That makes it even easier!” said Tony, gesticulating wildly, “Just tell me where the car keys are for literally any of the cars in the garage, and when I’m done you can keep the car.”

“ _No_ , young master Stark,” said Jarvis, as he went back to polishing Howard’s shoes.

“That’s right, you’re not a car guy,” said Tony, as he ran his hands through his hair, “You like… shoe polish? I’ll get you the best shoe polish known to man.”

“As tempting as the offer is, I’m afraid I must continue to refuse the young master’s request,” said Jarvis drily.

“Jarvis, you don’t _understand_. I _need_ a car. Any car. I’ll take the _Flintstones_ car at this point, I’m _desperate_.”

“The young master might have considered this desperation before he had his license revoked for going 80 miles per hour over the speed limit on the highway,” said Jarvis.

“That judge had it out for me,” Tony grumbled.

“Perhaps. In any event, the young master must complete his drivers’ education classes before his license is restored and he is once again permitted to drive.”

“ _Jarvis_ ,” said Tony, turning on his best schmooze voice.

Jarvis shot Tony a disapproving glance, clearly miffed that Tony would sink as low as trying the schmooze voice on him of all people. Then he put down the last of Howard’s gleaming, spotless shoes and stood up.

“I do have other duties to attend to, young master Stark, so if there is nothing else?” said Jarvis pointedly.

Tony scowled, and said, “One day, I’m going to make a robot that replaces you. And I’m going to call it something pejorative, like ‘idiot.’ And it’ll do everything I ask a billion times better than you and everyone will say, ‘man, it sure is a good thing Jarvis isn’t here killing everyone’s joy.’”

“Until that happens, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have some joy to kill,” said Jarvis with a small bow, and then he left the room.

Tony threw himself back on the bed and bit back a scream of frustration. The stars had aligned and put Tony at home from MIT long enough to socialize with people his own age, _and_ Danny Tremaine’s parents were out of town. That meant there was an absolutely humongous house party raging at Danny’s house _right now_ , one that Stacey McGuire might be at, and Tony was going to miss his shot to get past second base with her. And why? Because _one fucking judge_ decided to make an example of him. He hadn’t even hit anyone! What the hell was the point of a fast car if it couldn’t go fast!

Tony rolled over on his stomach and considered his options. The driver was out with his parents at the moment, therefore unavailable. He could call a cab, but then he’d have to answer questions on why he wasn’t driving. He could ask Jarvis to drive him, but he had a hunch after telling Jarvis he would one day replace him with a robot, Jarvis would probably make excuses about his “other duties taking precedence.” He could call a friend, except Tony didn’t really have any friends locally. Rhodey was back at his home in Illinois, and even though Tony could jet him over to the mansion in New York City, he wouldn’t get here in time to drive Tony to the party. Every option sucked.

Tony closed his eyes and let the sounds of the city in early summer float in through the open window to prod inspiration in his giant brain. There were car horns and police sirens and a Mr. Softie truck jingle, because the universe seemed determined to taunt him with reminders of everyone driving that wasn’t him at the moment. The ice cream truck seemed to stop someplace pretty close to the mansion, because the jingle got loud, then died abruptly as the guy driving it undoubtedly stopped the truck and… stepped away from the driver’s seat. Probably left the keys in the ignition too.

Hm. Ok. There was an idea. Now he just needed a plan.

***

“You did _not_ ,” laughed Clint.

“That’s what I said when he told me!” exclaimed Steve.

“Wait, what year was this? Is this why you were unreachable for a while between your junior and senior year at MIT? Were you in jail?” said Rhodey.

“Don’t be stupid, rich people don’t go to jail,” said Tony with a wave of his hand, “Anyway, it turns out stealing an ice cream truck is exactly as easy as it sounds. The trickiest part was getting the guy out of the truck, and all that took was an adorable and enterprising 6-year old, $50, and 3 minutes of coaching him through how to pretend to be too shy to come up to the window for his ice cream.”

“Crude, but effective,” said Natasha appreciatively.

“Ok, so you stole the truck,” said Jane, “What did Stacey think when you rolled up to the party in that sweet ride?”

Steve bit his lip and looked at the ceiling to suppress a laugh, which immediately got everyone else to lean in another inch to find out what was coming that was giving Steve a fit of the giggles.

Tony smirked, and continued, “Yeah, well, it turns out plans hatched while 16 and extremely horny are often… not the best plans.”

***

“What do you _mean_ Stacey’s not here?” Tony huffed.

“Uhm… she didn’t want to come?” said Danny Tremaine, scratching the back of his head.

“Where’s your phone?” said Tony, already looking around the living room.

“Penny’s been tying up the line for the last hour, breaking up with Dennis,” said Danny, “But like, Tony, I don’t think Stacey’d come even if you asked her. I invited her too, y’know. You’re not the only guy trying to tap that keg.”

“I-- we were going to hold hands and stuff too,” Tony sulked.

“Yeah, sure,” said Danny with an eye roll, “Anyway, she never comes to house parties. She’s a fuckin’ tease.”

“You don’t get to call people teases just because they won’t sleep with you, Danny,” said Tony with his own eye roll.

“Oh shit, we’ve got a feminist in the house,” said Danny putting up his hands.

Tony was going to say that Danny liked feminism just fine when Kelly O’Donnell was pegging him, but someone Tony didn’t recognize came out of the crowd of drunk teenagers milling around them and tapped Danny on the shoulder.

“Hey, Danny, did you hire the ice cream truck to come here? Because nobody can find the driver and if he doesn’t come back I think the hockey team’s gonna tip it.”

Tony swore and bolted outside. His current plan was to abandon the truck somewhere later, wipe it down for prints, and call a cab to head home himself with no one the wiser, and he would not be able to do that if the troglodytes currently banging on the exterior of the truck succeeded in tipping it over.

“Hey!” Tony shouted as he ran up to the truck, “Cut it out, assholes, that’s my truck!”

“I want a Choco-Taco!” shouted a guy with a neck like a tree trunk

“The truck’s mine, not the ice cream,” said Tony.

“Oh,” said the drunk, who then added, “I want a pops’cle then.”

“Me too!” said 12 other guys, all looking at Tony. And… wow, they were all much bigger than he was. And surrounding him. Ok.

“Guys,” said Tony, raising his hands in an attempt to placate the giant wall of muscle mass that was currently closing in around him.

“He’s got the keys!” one of them shouted, and immediately lunged for the truck keys in Tony’s hand. Fortunately the guy was really far gone and he missed by a solid foot, but the other guys seemed to be taking his cue and all had their eyes fixed on the keys in Tony’s hand. Tony needed to act fast before someone stole the truck from _him_.

“Give me 5 seconds and everyone can have all the ice cream they want,” said Tony, as he ducked through the gap where the lunger had stood to get to the back of the truck. He unlocked it, got inside, closed the door, and sunk down on the floor.

One of the down-sides of being a genius was that it dramatically cut down on the time you needed to realize you’d been a complete fucking idiot. Stacey _hated_ parties. The only reason she’d come at all to the rich people parties Tony knew her from was that Stacey’s parents wanted to show off their happy wholesome rich people family, just like every other rich person in New York City. He and Stacey had freaking _bonded_ over it, for Christ’s sake (Tony had only lied a little - he did hate rich people parties at least), and they’d used it as an excuse to sneak out onto the roof and grope each other. Why the hell had he thought she’d be here? And what the hell was he going to do now? Should he drive the truck to her house? Her parents might not like that. Hell, he didn’t even know what _Stacey_ would think of that. He was starting to wonder if seducing a girl with a stolen ice cream truck was that good of an idea after all.

Tony heard a sniff, and looked up. Sitting in the passenger’s seat was Penny Kurtz, the girl Danny had told him had been on the phone breaking up with her boyfriend. She was clearly at the tail end of a long cry - her mascara was streaked down her face, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

“Um…” said Tony uncertainly.

“I just needed a private place to cry, and then the asshole brigade started banging on the truck and I got kinda scared and stayed inside. I’ll leave if you get rid of them, I swear,” said Penny.

Ah shit, Tony had forgotten about the hockey guys outside the truck. But they definitely hadn’t forgotten him, because they’d started banging on the side again, and one guy started trying to rock it. Tony gave an exasperated sigh, opened one of the freezers, took out an armful of Tweety Bird gumball pops, then opened the window and shouted, “Fetch!” as he threw them all as far away from the truck as he could. As soon as the meatheads ran off after the popsicles, he reached back in the freezer, took out a rocket pop, and offered it to Penny.

“Heard you broke up with your boyfriend. Tough break. Have a popsicle.”

“Can’t, I’m getting fat,” said Penny sadly.

“Did Dennis tell you that?” said Tony, “Because one he’s an idiot, and two it sounds like you don’t have to give a fuck what he thinks anymore.”

Penny looked as if a whole world of possibilities had just opened up to her, then she grabbed the popsicle out of Tony’s hand and started absolutely going to _town_ on it. Tony watched her lips slide up and down the length of it and… hm. Ok. New plan.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” said Tony.

Penny’s lips slid off the popsicle with an audible slurp that went straight to Tony’s dick, and she said, “ _Fuck_ yeah. I only came here to try and make it work with Dennis. I _hate_ parties.”

“Me too!” lied Tony as he started the truck.

20 minutes later Iron Maiden was blaring from the truck’s surprisingly loud radio and Tony and Penny both were sticky all over with licked-off melted ice cream. There was some sort of joke to be made about being this hard in a Mr. Softie truck, but every time Tony tried to think of it Penny’s lips worked their way a little closer to his dick and all he could think was this whole thing was the _best idea he had ever had_.

They were just getting to the good part when the doors to the back of the truck were forced open and Penny backed off with a yelp of surprise.

“Hi officer!” Tony yelled over the music as he raised his hands over his head. Then he added, “Here for a Klondike bar?”

***

“You are _unbelievable_!” wheezed Bruce.

“Poor Stacey,” said Clint.

“Poor Penny!” Jane laughed.

“Stacey turned out to be gayer than the volleyball scene in _Top Gun_ , and Penny got a fundraiser out of me when she eventually ran for governor, so things turned out ok for everyone in the end,” said Tony with a fond smile.

“Oh my god, she was _that_ Penny Kurtz?” said Rhodey, “ _Current governor of New Jersey_ Penelope Kurtz?”

“I’ve always had a thing for the ones that’re too good for me,” said Tony, picking up Steve’s hand to give it a kiss.

“Me too,” said Steve softly, as he landed a kiss on Tony’s temple.

“Anyway, the rest of this story is a lot of me getting yelled at, so that seems to be a good place to end the first installment of the Stupid Sexy Avengers Project. Who’s next?”


	2. Hooker with the Hair of Gold

“If we’re going to end with Clint, we should probably go clockwise, which means Steve’s next,” said Bruce.

“Nope,” said Steve, “Not giving you all the chance to chicken out once you got what you came for.”

Bruce shrugged and said, “Yeah, I guess that’s fair. Ok, let’s skip Steve for now and go to Thor, then.”

Jane laughed and said, “You’re gonna have a hard time getting Thor to tell you a sex story he’s embarrassed of. Asgard has literally no concept of sexual shame.”

“Why would someone be ashamed of sex?” said Thor. Then he thought about it and added, “I suppose sleeping with someone you later found out was dishonorable and cruel could be something to be ashamed of, but I’m glad to say I’ve never done that.”

“I mean, I’m not ashamed of my sexual history either,” said Tony, “I picked that story because it’s fucking _funny_. So what’s your funniest sex story, Thor?”

“Well, I suppose there was the time I wore a wedding dress and Loki and I--”

Everyone groaned.

“Thor, I think I speak for all of us when I say we like you a lot, but if we have to hear the wedding story one more time we are selling mjolnir on Craigslist,” said Clint.

Thor shrugged and said, “I’m not sure what other story I could tell. My sexual history is fantastic but not particularly funny.”

“What about that thing that happened in Detroit, babe?” said Jane.

“What thing?”

“The thing outside the bar when I was running late coming over from the conference.”

“Why would being mistaken for a sex worker be funny?” asked Thor.

“What!?” shouted almost everyone at once.

Nat rolled her eyes and said, “Thor, there’s about two thousand years of shitty human history I’d have to explain to answer that question. Suffice to say that you being mistaken for a sex worker counts as a funny story in Midgard.”

“It’s not even just that,” said Jane with a broad grin, “Wait till you hear what happened after.”

“Enough foreplay, get to the main event,” said Tony, “Thor, why were you mistaken for a sex worker in Detroit?”

***

_No wonder Midgard is so far behind in technological advancement_ , thought Thor grudgingly, _Every summer it gets hot enough to melt the brains out of one’s ears._

It was late, and Thor was standing outside of a bar where he was supposed to meet Jane 15 minutes ago. He was wearing leather pants and a denim jacket that was open in the front, exposing his bare chest. He knew in theory he should’ve taken off the jacket before the tee shirt that was now tucked under his arm, but Jane had remarked once that he looked good in denim jackets, and Thor would’ve worn a fur parka if it made her happy. He supposed he could take off the leather pants to cool down, but he’d been reprimanded by the local police the last time he’d gone outside naked from the waist down. Apparently it didn’t matter on earth if it was hot enough to spontaneously catch fire for three months out of the year, you had to wear enough clothes to cover your genitals at all times. At least they let the people without breasts expose their chests, even though that felt like an incredibly bizarre rule to Thor. Midgard clearly had a lot more misogynist nonsense to work through.

A car pulled up to where Thor was standing and rolled down the window, revealing a driver with sandy hair and a patchy beard.

“Hey! Blondie! C’mere!” he said.

Thor walked up to the car, leaned down, and rested his elbows on the open car window.

“Good evening, friend!” said Thor.

“How much?” said the man driving the car.

“How much what?”

“What do you think? How much money, idiot,” said the man.

Thor thought _that_ was a bit uncalled for, but he reached into his pocket and took out his wallet.

“I have… 25 American dollars. I’ve been told I shouldn’t be giving out money to anyone who asks for it but I won’t tell Stark if you don’t,” said Thor with a wink, as he held out the money.

The man blinked, then said, “Uhhhh, I’m a John, man. I’m not trying to rob you here.”

“Wonderful to meet you, John!” said Thor, putting his money away, “And I’m gratified to hear you don’t require funds desperately enough to steal them. The poverty is absolutely _terrible_ here in Midgard, I’m not sure how it’s allowed.”

“Uh… what will $300 get me?” said John.

“A lot if you’re looking for food, but not very much if you need shelter for more than a night or two,” replied Thor.

“I don’t want to take you out to dinner or get a hotel first, dude,” said John.

“Then there’s no need to spend your limited funds at all, I suppose,” said Thor with a smile.

“You don’t want any money?” said John.

“Oh no, I’m well provided for, financially.”

“Ok… I mean, I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Unless you’ve got an STD. Although I’ve got condoms for that.”

“Good lad! Always good to be prepared,” said Thor, “And I was under the impression it was rude to ask about someone’s sexual illnesses unless one planned to sleep with them on Midgard, but I’m glad to hear that’s just a custom in New York.”

“You know I _am_ asking to sleep with you, right?” said John.

“Well why didn’t you say so!” said Thor, “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I’m in a monogamous relationship at the moment.”

John stared at Thor in stunned silence for a moment, before he said to himself, “Christ, I can’t even get the hookers to have sex with me.”

“Ah, I’m beginning to understand this conversation a bit better. I’m afraid I’m not a sex worker, my friend.”

“Are you serious? You’re dressed like _that_ in _this_ neighborhood and you’re not a hooker?”

“I wasn’t aware sex workers had a dress code in Midgard,” said Thor thoughtfully, “Or a particular district where they were permitted to work.”

“Hey, did you hit your head or something? I don’t know what Midgard is, but this is Detroit, pal.”

“Oh I’m aware. We call this place Midgard where I come from,” said Thor. Then he reached out his hand to shake John’s and said, “Thor Odinson of Asgard, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, John.”

John still looked confused, but he shook Thor’s hand and said, “Is that near Toledo?”

“There you are!” said a familiar voice. Thor turned and saw Jane running towards him, and he smiled as the familiar warmth filled his chest at the sight of her.

“Jane! I was beginning to worry,” said Thor as he wrapped Jane in an embrace.

“Christ, you’re not even _gay_?” said John.

“Oh, how rude of me--” started Thor.

“Thor, where is your shirt? Why are you dressed like a sex worker? Wait - are you talking to a John right now?” said Jane pointedly.

“So you’ve met John!” said Thor excitedly, “Excellent, I don’t need to make introductions.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” said Jane as she slapped her hand to her face. Then she turned toward John and said, “I’m sorry about this. Thor’s not from around here.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to get that,” said John.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go inside,” said Jane.

“Wait a moment,” said Thor, who turned back toward John and said, “Would you like to join us for a drink?”

“Uhhh… I’m not really into that pal,” said John.

“Oh, do you not require liquids for sustenance? I thought all Midgardians did,” said Thor.

Jane snorted and said, “No, honey, he thinks you’re inviting him to a threesome with us.”

“How does anyone communicate on this planet when no one ever says what they mean?” said Thor with a bemused shake of his head.

“Planet???” said John.

“John, I’m not inviting you to a threesome. I just want to share a drink with a new friend. That’s if… is it alright with you, Jane?” said Thor hopefully.

Jane looked back and forth between Thor and John, clearly trying to formulate an argument for why this was a bad idea. Then after a few seconds she said, “Guhhhhh ok fine. Just please stop giving me the puppy dog eyes, I can’t take it.”

Thor beamed and said, “How about it, John?”

John still looked thoroughly overwhelmed and confused, but he ultimately shrugged and said, “Paul.”

“What?” said Thor.

“My name’s Paul, not John. And yeah, give me a minute to park the car and I’ll meet you inside.”

***

“Thor you really are something else,” said Steve as he finally managed to sigh off the last of his laughter.

“Have you ever met someone that you didn’t immediately become friends with, Thor?” asked Rhodey in between giggles.

“Why wouldn’t you try to befriend someone you were meeting for the first time? Unless you were meeting in combat, or knew in advance they weren’t worth befriending,” said Thor.

“And that is why Thor is gonna be king of Asgard someday,” said Tony, “Even if they get democracy over there, no one running against him would stand a chance.”

“Why thank you, Tony,” said Thor with a nod.

“What was Jane talking about before, with what happened next?” said Steve.

Thor shrugged and said, “I’d say it’s not worth telling, but honestly I didn’t think the story of how we met Paul was worth telling either. It was a simple misunderstanding about my line of work. Surely the same thing has happened to all of you. It happens to me all the time.”

“Yeah, but people usually think you’re a model, babe. Or a cosplayer if you’re in your armor,” said Jane.

“I’ve also been mistaken for someone called ‘the naked cowboy,’” said Thor, “Although come to think of it I suppose he must be a sex worker too.”

Tony snorted and said, “No, Thor, he’s a weird exception to the rule of how sex workers usually dress. And as badly as I’d like to know why you were wandering around Times Square in just your underpants, I’m going to need to hear how drinks with a potential John turned out.”

“I think I know where this is going,” said Nat, “But I want to hear it from you.”

“Yeah, Thor, what happened next?” said Rhodey.

***

“Amazing!” said Thor as he scrolled through the pictures on Paul’s phone, “The craftsmanship is truly exquisite.”

“Paul, I have spent my entire life around geeks and I’ve met more mini-fig painters than you will believe. This work is something else,” said Jane, who was looking over Thor’s shoulder.

Paul smiled sheepishly and said, “Thanks. Doesn’t help much picking up guys, though.”

“Dude are you serious? My D&D group is like 50% gay dudes and all of them would kill for a mini-fig this gorgeous,” said Jane.

“What kind of game shops are you going to that have so many gay nerds?” said Paul.

“See, there’s your problem - I don’t go to game shops. The second the guys see me they think I’m there to pick up something for my boyfriend. Start making friends with the girl nerds you find and a whole new world of not-asshole geeks opens up to you, and a _lot_ of them are queer.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” said Paul with an appreciative nod, “But still, I’m not exactly the could-cosplay-Goku type most nerdy guys go for.”

“I’m sorry?” said Thor.

“Paul thinks the only way guys’ll be interested in him is if he’s as stacked as you are, Thor,” said Jane.

“Well that’s nonsense. Midgard is full of people of varying physiques and many of them are happily coupled.”

“You sound like my therapist,” said Paul dully, then he added, “Guh, I’m sorry. I know I’m really bringing down the mood here. And I’m crashing your date too. I’ll get going, thanks for the drink.”

“Don’t be absurd, we haven’t set you up with a suitable partner yet,” said Thor.

“What?” said Jane.

“ _What??_ ” said Paul.

“Go on, Paul, tell me - does anyone in this bar catch your eye?” said Thor.

Paul gaped at Thor, then babbled, “Uh… this isn’t a gay bar. I don’t even know if any of the guys here are into dudes.”

“Hm, I suppose that is a problem. But one that’s easily rectified,” said Thor, who turned to the crowd and shouted, “Excuse me! Could I please get a show of hands from men who are single and potentially interested beginning a courtship with another single man tonight?”

The bar went quiet, but then a handful of guys sheepishly raised their hands.

“Excellent! Thank you, please continue with your revelry,” said Thor, and then he turned back toward Paul and said, “Alright, do any of them seem appealing to you?”

Paul’s face was absolutely scarlet, and Jane was laughing and shaking her head.

“I hope you’re ready for every one of those guys coming over here and asking for your number, Thor,” said Jane, as she took a swig from her beer.

Thor shrugged and said, “If they do, I’ll simply direct them to Paul here.”

“You will _not_ ,” Paul said in a terrified whisper.

“Why not? Didn’t you say you were looking for a partner?” said Thor.

“Yeah but none of those guys are even in my league!” said Paul.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you in a particular caste that limits your choice of dates?”

“You could say that,” said Paul.

“He thinks all of those guys are too hot to be interested in him, honey,” said Jane.

“I wouldn’t get five minutes into any conversation without you to translate for me, beloved,” said Thor, as he ran his hand over Jane’s face affectionately. Then he turned to Paul and said, “Paul, if I never approached women who were more attractive than me, I would never have had the courage to ask out my dearest Jane here.”

“Oh _stop,_ ” giggled Jane.

“I don’t know, you both look pretty hot to me,” said Paul.

“Why thank you, Paul. But the point stands that… what’s Clint always saying, Jane? One should ‘shoot one’s shot’?”

“Well, Clint means something a little different when he says it, but he’s right, Paul. Worst case scenario you get laughed at, which sucks, but anybody who’d laugh at someone trying to ask them out is a piece of shit and the only takeaway from an interaction like that is that you dodged a bullet.”

“Um, hey,” said a guy with jet black hair and a wide smile, “Aren’t you Thor? You look a lot like him, at least, if the pictures on the news are worth anything.”

“Yes!” said Thor as he held out his hand, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

“Kyle,” said the other guy as he reached out and shook Thor’s hand. Then he added, “I’m uh… one of the single guys interested in other guys in this bar.”

“Wonderful!” said Thor as he clasped him on the shoulder, “Sadly I am not, but can I introduce you to my dear friend Paul, who is?”

“Oh. Um… ok,” said Kyle, “Hi.”

“You are unbelievably hot,” Paul blurted out.

Kyle laughed and said, “Thanks, I’ve been told.”

“Is that a Dragonball keychain I’m seeing there?” said Jane, eyeing the keys hanging out of Kyle’s jeans pocket.

“Oh, yeah,” said Kyle with a small blush, “I’m guessing you’re Thor’s date, huh. Are you into anime too?”

“Nah, I just spend my day job hanging out around anime nerds,. But I’ve got a hunch you and Paul have a lot to talk about,” said Jane.

“Another gay nerd? Man, tonight is certainly looking up,” Kyle flirted.

Paul swallowed as he looked at Kyle, then Jane, then Thor, who made a little “Well, go on” motion with his hand.

“Can I buy you a drink?” said Paul.

“Sure,” said Kyle.

***

“The rest of the story’s about what you’d expect,” said Jane, “The four of us got a booth and had an impromptu double date, then went our separate ways when the bar closed. Although after the fifth guy tried to pick Thor up he made another announcement apologizing for the earlier miscommunication and assured everyone that he was flattered but already in a happy monogamous relationship.”

“Oh my _God_ , Thor,” laughed Rhodey.

“What? I realized I’d said something I didn’t intend in your weird Midgardian code-speak, and so I rectified the error,” said Thor.

“Please tell me you kept in touch with Paul,” said Tony.

“We did!” said Jane, “Last year when I went back to Detroit for that conference we met up with Paul _and_ Kyle. We’re going to their wedding in April.”

“That’s _adorable_ ,” said Clint.

“I wonder what their story is gonna be for explaining why Thor’s there,” said Steve.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me honey,” said Jane, “You’re not allowed to tell anyone at the wedding that Paul tried to pick you up because he thought you were a sex worker, ok?”

“I will never get used to the ways you all talk in circles around everything here,” said Thor as he shook his head.

“Yeah, I can see Paul not wanting grandma to hear that story,” said Tony, “Anyway, thank you Thor - that absolutely counts as a hilarious sex story.”

“I guess that means Natasha’s next,” said Jane.

“ _Oh no_. Nope, we’re going all the way around this circle,” said Tony

Jane gave Tony a quizzical look, and then her eyes went wide.

“Me!?” Jane exclaimed.

“ _You_ ,” said Tony with an absolutely fiendish grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wedding dress story Thor is referencing here is a real Norse myth - Thor had to put on a wedding dress and pretend to be Freya for a wedding ceremony. He's about as good at pretending as you'd expect, but Loki's there to explain away every time Thor messes up. It's a very funny story, actually: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%9Erymskvi%C3%B0a


	3. Mr. Dick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might be my favorite of the lot :)

“I’m not an Avenger! I’m just a scientist!” Jane squeaked.

“Hey, me too,” said Bruce, “The other guy’s the whole reason I’m here at all.”

Rhodey snorted and said, “If _you’re_ not an Avenger, I’m definitely not. I’m just a guy who stumbled into a metal suit he barely understands. I’m not even living in the frat house.”

“We’re just squishy spies who barely punch good enough to keep up with the super-humans and super-geniuses,” said Clint, indicating himself and Natasha.

Tony let out an exasperated sigh and said, “No, we are not playing the who-deserves-to-be-an-Avenger game. Because I would lose and, Steve, don’t start, I’m making a point here. And the point is it doesn’t matter. Even if you’re not an Avenger, if you’re gonna hear our stories, you gotta tell yours. That was the deal.”

“But-- come on, yours and Thor’s are funny, mine’s just mortifying,” said Natasha.

“So’s mine,” said Steve.

“And mine,” said Rhodey, “You just had the bad luck of being the first one to follow the guys with no shame.”

“Oh my _Godddd_ ,” said Jane into her hands. She was already bright red.

“Jane, are you alright?” said Thor.

“I’m fine, honey, I just… man, when I came here tonight I did not think I’d end up talking about Mr. Dick.”

Both Steve and Rhodey choked on their beers.

“Jane, before you begin, for my peace of mind, I need to know that Thor has not named his penis Mr. Dick,” said Bruce carefully, “I just… I need to hear that, Jane.”

“Thor did not name his penis Mr. Dick,” said Jane reassuringly.

“People name their penises here?” said Thor.

“Some very insecure people do, yes,” said Tony.

“You named yours when you were a teenager, didn’t you Tony,” said Natasha.

“ _Jane_ is telling us a _story_ ,” Tony deflected, “A story about _Mr. Dick_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am,” said Jane.

***

“Hey, I’m back,” said Charlotte Foster as she came through the front door of Jane’s apartment.

Three-year-old Athena Foster immediately stopped singing her favorite song ( _fucking finally_ , thought Jane, who then immediately felt guilty for thinking it) and ran toward her mother.

“Mommy!” shouted Athena as she buried her face in her mother’s leg.

Charlotte picked her up and said, “Did you have a good day with Aunt Jane?”

“Mm-hmm,” said Athena.

“She taught me her favorite song today,” said Jane.

Charlotte’s eyes immediately took on the look of a shell-shocked soldier sympathizing with a new recruit who’d just had her first taste of battle.

“Athena, sweetie, what did I say about the _Mr. Things_ song?” said Charlotte.

“Uhhh…” said Athena, face going completely blank.

“I said it’s a sometimes song, not an all the time song,” said Charlotte.

“Ok,” said Athena. She was pretty bright for a three-year-old, but the distinction between things that can happen sometimes vs. all the time was clearly still a bit beyond her grasp.

“Alright, honey, go play for a bit, I want to talk to Aunt Jane,” said Charlotte, setting her down.

Jane sat down at the kitchen table and settled into catching up with her sister like she was settling under a warm blanket with a hot cup of cocoa. They talked about Jane’s frustrations with the physics department chair and Charlotte’s asshole ex-husband and oh my God did you see _Battlestar Galactica_ this week, what was _up_ with that? And honestly it was so comfortable and easy for Jane, just spending time with someone she loved so much, that it took way, way, longer than it should have for her notice that the apartment was quiet around them. And that quiet in a place with a toddler was never, _ever_ a good sign. 

“Where’s Athena?” said Charlotte suddenly, looking around.

Jane felt her heart stop, and then immediately leapt up from her chair.

“Athena, sweetheart?” called Jane frantically as she immediately began jogging through the apartment.

“Shut up and stay still for a second, I want to listen,” said Charlotte.

Jane closed her mouth and stayed still. And Charlotte knew what she was doing because sure enough, they could hear Athena yet again singing her favorite song.

 _Let’s thank Mr. Car, for taking us so far,_ _  
_ _Thank you Mr. Car! For taking us so far!_  
_Let’s thank Mr. Plate, for keeping our food straight,_ _  
Thank you Mr. Plate! For keeping our food straight!_

Athena was thanking Mr. Toy for bringing us some joy when they found her.

In Jane’s bedroom.

Next to an open nightstand drawer.

Waving Jane’s gigantic, blue, glittery, silicon dildo through the air like she was conducting an orchestra.

“Athena! Put that down!” shouted Charlotte.

Athena started in shock that she was being yelled at, and then immediately started to cry.

“Jane, get the… I’m going to go wash her hands,” said Charlotte picking her up and knocking the dildo out of her hands.

Jane’s brain had completely shut down the second she saw Athena. But hearing her sister say her name had restarted it, and Jane leapt across the bedroom to pick up the discarded dildo and put it on the top of her wardrobe, somewhere Jane could barely reach, let alone Athena.

Jane heard Charlotte run a full bath for Athena and she sat down on the bed, unable to think or breathe or really do anything except be completely mortified. When Charlotte finally came back into the bedroom 30 minutes later with Athena in brand new clothes and dozing on her shoulder, Jane couldn’t bring herself to look Charlotte in the eye.

“Charlotte… I don’t even know what to say except I’m sorry,” said Jane.

“Jane--” said Charlotte.

“The baby-proofing thing you sent talked about stairs and cleaners under the sink and electric outlets and hard corners and I didn’t even _think_ about--”

“It’s ok, Jane. Really. But um… I need to know when’s the last time you were tested,” said Charlotte uneasily.

“Right after I broke up with Donald,” said Jane in a rush, “And I was clean. And I haven’t slept with anyone since, I _swear_.”

Charlotte’s posture visibly relaxed a bit, as she said, “Ok. Well. That’s one less thing to worry about then. I might call the pediatrician anyway. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just--”

“I understand completely,” said Jane quickly, “I-- fuck, I am _so sorry_ , Charlotte. I can’t-- I didn’t--”

“Hey, Jane! It’s ok. Really, it’s ok. Fucking up is part of the experience,” said Charlotte.

“God, I really fucked up,” said Jane miserably as she laid back on the bed and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and willing the tears to go back inside them. 

A second later, she felt the bed sag next to her and Charlotte said, “You want to know what happened at my house last week? I turned my back for two seconds and when I looked around, Athena was running outside and into the street. I still have no idea how she got the door open. But nearly killing, dismembering, or diseasing your toddler is completely par for the course.”

“I am never having kids,” said Jane.

“Well, definitely not at the rate you’re going. The last person you slept with was really _Donald_?” said Charlotte.

Jane put her hands down and gave her sister a scowl.

“Don’t you anti-slutshame me,” said Jane.

“I mean, I guess I understand why, if you’re waiting for a dick _that big_ ,” said Charlotte, gesturing to the dildo that was still visible from the top of the wardrobe.

“Oh my _Goddddd_ ,” said Jane as she brought her knees to her chest, wishing desperately she could be swallowed up by the mattress and sink down into the center of the earth.

Charlotte laughed and said, “And such a nice color! Are you waiting for that too?”

“Yes. Yes I am,” Jane deadpanned, “That’s the reason why I haven’t gotten laid in so long, I’m waiting for a guy with a giant blue glittery dick to take me to pleasure town.”

“I mean, live your bliss. And maybe some hot alien will sweep you off your feet one day and--”

“If you weren’t holding Athena I would shove you off the bed.”

“But you _won’t_ , because you’re a good Aunt, Jane,” laughed Charlotte, “Really, I mean it. You are. But maybe let’s talk about locking the bedroom when you’re hosting Thanksgiving next weekend.”

“Of course,” said Jane, and she immediately made a mental note to get an industrial-strength lock for her bedroom door.

“Um… she’s going to be down for a bit, and I’ve actually got some free time. Do you want to put her in the playpen and watch an episode of _Star Trek_?”

“ _Fuck yeah I do_ ,” said Jane as she got up from the bed.

Forty five minutes later Charlotte and Jane were saying their goodbyes and Athena was crying trying to get back inside the now locked bedroom so she could keep playing with the exciting toy she’d found. And any other parent probably would’ve just bodily lifted Athena and carried her to the car kicking and screaming, but Charlotte was very much in the talk-to-children-like-they’re-little-grownups camp of parenthood, and sat down on the floor next to her tantrum-throwing toddler.

“As soon as you’re done crying, we can talk about why you can’t have that toy,” said Charlotte calmly.

Athena knew this routine, so she swallowed down the last of her sobs and sat down next to her mother.

“Athena, sweetheart, the thing you were playing with… that’s called ‘Mr. Dick’,” said Charlotte.

Jane felt her face burn as she shot Charlotte a death glare, but Charlotte was unperturbed.

“Mr. Dick for helps Aunt Jane when she’s stressed out, but we can’t sing about it, ok? And this is very important sweetie - you can never, ever touch it. Because it’s not safe for little girls. So even if Aunt Jane forgets to lock the door, never _ever_ touch anything in that drawer, ok?”

“Ok,” said Athena, still sniffling from her tantrum.

“That’s my girl,” said Charlotte. She got up, picked up Athena, and gave Jane a kiss on the cheek.

“See you at Thanksgiving, Jane. Say bye, Athena!” said Charlotte.

“Bye!” said Athena.

Charlotte and Athena walked out the door, and Jane was left to contemplate whether this was the weirdest way anyone had ever named a sex toy.

***

“You got your wish, though!” laughed Tony.

“What do you mean?” said Jane.

“I think he means you got your hot alien with a huge dick” giggled Clint, “I mean, no blue or glitter but still.”

“I’d ask how you all know the size of Thor’s dick, but knowing what I do about Asgardian modesty standards I’m going to assume everyone here has seen Thor naked at least 100 times.”

“Sweetie, we stopped counting after 100,” chuckled Natasha.

Thor asked, “Is the blue and the glitter something you want, Jane? Because--”

“NO!” Jane almost shouted, then she said, “I mean, no, Thor. No. It’s a joke.”

“Hey, hear the man out at least,” said Tony, “For all we know Asgardian dick-modification technology is as advanced as everything else they’ve got.”

Jane picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at Tony’s face, who didn’t even bother to deflect it as he collapsed into another fit of laughter.

“Anyway, that’s the end of my story,” said Jane.

“No it’s not,” said Natasha knowingly, “Something happened at Thanksgiving.”

For either a second or an eternity, you could hear a pin drop in that common room.

“How did you know that?” Jane said quietly.

“I didn’t. But you just confirmed it.”

Jane buried her face in her hands and said, “Oh come on, haven’t I suffered _enough_?”

“All in favor of Jane not suffering enough and telling us what happened at Thanksgiving?” said Tony.

Everyone but Thor and Jane raised their hands.

“Jane, if you don’t want to do this, we can leave now,” said Thor.

Jane turned toward Thor, gave a small smile, then patted his hand.

“No, it’s alright,” said Jane with a sigh, “It’s… yeah, from the perspective of literally anyone who is not me, what happened at Thanksgiving was really fucking funny.”

***

“Un-fucking-believable,” muttered Jane. Then she turned toward the bedroom door and shouted, “You are _un-fucking-believable,_ Dad.”

“Out in a-- ah!-- minute, honey,” said the breathy voice of Jane’s Dad, Greg Foster.

“I can’t believe you picked the fucking lock! What the fuck is wrong with you, that’s _my bed_ you’re fucking on!” said Jane.

“Little busy hon!” came Greg’s voice, barely louder than his girlfriend Tanya’s moans at this point.

Jane gave a loud sigh in frustration, then said, “Just make sure you lock the door again on your way out! I mean it! It’s important! Lock the door behind you!”

Jane stomped away from the bedroom door and back toward the mess in the kitchen.

“They’re--” started Charlotte.

“ _Yup_ ,” said Jane, “He wasn’t like this with mom, was he? You’d remember.”

“Pretty sure I’d try _not to_ remember a detail like that,” said Charlotte, “That said… no, pretty sure this is just a thing with Tanya.”

“Fucking Tanya,” said Jane.

“Fucking Tanya,” echoed Athena.

Jane jumped a bit, then looked down and saw Athena was sitting on the floor a few feet away, playing with some Barbies.

“Oh shi-- shoot, I’m sorry Charlotte,” said Jane.

“Athena, sweetheart? ‘Fucking’ a word only grown-ups get to say when they’re very stressed out,” said Charlotte.

Athena perked up and said, “S-ressed out?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You don’t get to say that word until you’re all grown up,” said Charlotte.

Athena immediately ran off and disappeared down the hallway just as Greg and Tanya reappeared, still fixing their clothes.

“You’re paying for a new bed spread,” said Jane.

“I’ll add one to your Christmas presents,” said Greg with a wink, then he said, “Where’s your brother?”

“Right here,” said George Foster as he strode into the kitchen, beer in hand. “Just came in to get some more chips. The Eagles are up by 3 but Green Bay’s in field goal range.”

“I’ll join you,” said Greg, “Tanya, sweetheart, get me a beer?”

Tanya grimaced into what might have once been a smile before the plastic surgery froze her face, and walked over to the fridge.

“You know, you _could_ also help me clean up all of this,” said Jane, indicating the sink full of dishes left over from the meal she’d just spent 5 hours preparing.

“After the game, I promise,” said George.

“But you always _leave_ after the--”

“THANK YOU MR. DICK!” shouted Athena.

Jane turned around and saw Athena had dragged the entire bedside drawer full of sex toys from the bedroom to the kitchen, careful not to touch any inside. And sitting right on top, in all its giant, blue, glittery, silicon glory, was Mr. Dick.

***

“I think I ruptured my spleen,” said Bruce breathlessly as he clutched his side.

“I’m definitely dying,” said Clint, who was doubled over on the floor, “This is it. This is the end for me. I’m going out absolutely skewered by a dildo named ‘Mr. Dick,’ and not in the kinky way.”

“Jane,” said Thor, who was also flushed from laughing, “I need to see this Mr. Dick.”

“Oh I threw out all of those toys after everyone left. You really think I could get off to any of them after something like that happened?”

“Where did you buy it? What year? What kind of glitter effect did it have?” said Tony.

“Tony, I’m pretty sure Jane does not want or need another Mr. Dick,” said Natasha, who then turned back toward Jane and said, “Ok, I would not have pushed if I’d known the follow-up was that brutal, but thank you for finishing your story. You are definitely winning so far.”

Jane smiled and said, “Hopefully not for long, because you’re next, Natasha.”


	4. The Spoons Story

“And now is when I get to pull out the ace card,” said Natasha with a smirk.

“Ok, I know you’re asexual, but surely you’ve got _some kind_ of embarrassing story that would fit tonight’s theme,” said Bruce.

“Sorry, Bruce - one of the great side-effects of not thinking with your genitals is you don’t get embarrassing stories like these,” said Nat as she leaned back confidently into the couch cushions.

There was a blur as Clint hurled something small and white directly at her head. Natasha caught it effortlessly, and the moment she realized it was a plastic spoon her entire body froze. For a solid minute, no one said anything - there was just Natasha and Clint staring daggers at each other. It was the closest any of them had ever seen to Natasha losing her cool.

“Look, as badly as I want to know why Nat is freaking out over a plastic spoon right now, I don’t want her to kill me once she’s done telling whatever story this is about,” said Rhodey.

Tony rolled his eyes and said, “She wouldn’t kill you. Too much paperwork. She’d probably throw you down a well somewhere far away where no one will hear you scream for help and then… you know what, I’m starting to come around to Rhodey’s point of view here.”

“Um, _no_ ,” said Jane indignantly, “No, you all got to hear about Mr. Dick, and now I get to hear why Nat’s freaking out over a plastic spoon. That was the deal.”

“She’s right, Nat. That was the deal,” said Steve.

Nat’s eyes flicked around to everyone else in the room and ultimately landed on Jane. Then she exhaled slowly, sat up from the couch and said, “I want to be clear that if one word of this ever reaches anyone at Shield, everyone in this room will be lucky to get a well. And I’m including you in this, Jarvis - I’d find a way for you.”

“Secrecy was already an accepted condition at the beginning of this discussion, miss Romanov,” said Jarvis, a little too coolly to be actually unperturbed.

“Just being clear,” said Natasha nonchalantly. Then she put down the plastic spoon and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Alright. Operation Peacoat. A.K.A., The Spoons Story.”

***

“Lynn will win the thin tin whistle,” Natasha chanted to herself absent-mindedly as she waited in the cafe for her mark to arrive. She’d long since beaten every trace of Russian accent out of her Southern California dialect of English, but skill would rot without practice, and for this mission to be a success she couldn’t risk an absentminded “ee” sound showing up where there should be an “i,” or any other tell that could indicate she wasn’t an undergrad from Berkeley studying abroad in Oxford for the summer.

“Walter wore Whitney’s white wainscot. The thousand thinkers thoroughly thanked their thimbles,” Natasha recited to herself.

The bell over the door tinkled and in walked the mark. Haley DeWitt, 20, daughter of ambassador Gregory DeWitt, who had recently exposed one of the Red Room’s minor operations in Kyiv. Nothing serious, but he was well-positioned to find out about and potentially expose a larger operation in Odesa, and the Red Room needed leverage to keep his mouth shut. Haley was considered a low-potential, low-priority target, but Natasha had pressed for her partly because of what she’d read in her file, under the “sexual proclivities'' section (files written in English always used weird euphemisms like that - the Russian ones just called that section “kinks”). There was something there that would make it easy to play her like a fiddle and get what they needed.

“Hayley? Is that you?” said Natasha.

Hayley turned around and looked at Nat.

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” said Hayley.

“Yeah! Um. I’m sorry, you probably don’t remember me. I was at your parents’ Christmas party last year. My dad got an invite he wanted to-- well, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m so sorry, so many people come to those parties,” said Hayley apologetically, before she sized Natasha up and said, “But I’m surprised I don’t remember you.”

“I could never forget _you_ ,” said Natasha, who then pressed her fingers to her mouth like she’d let something slip she hadn’t intended.

Hayley laughed, then said, “Let’s try this again then. Hi! I’m Hayley DeWitt.”

“Rebecca Dinardo,” said Natasha, reaching out to shake her hand and lingering just a bit too long on the touch. Hayley noticed, and a smile quirked her lips.

“Um… can I buy you a coffee?” said Hayley.

“If I have another coffee I’ll get all jittery, but I wouldn’t say no to a parfait,” said Natasha.

“Works for me,” said Hayley.

They sat down and chatted. “Rebecca” was an army brat who’d been in DC around Christmas last year and had attended the party that intelligence said was large enough and busy enough for Hayley not to remember meeting her at. And she was so excited to be studying abroad now because she’d had to uproot and move so many times in her life and it felt good to move somewhere that was her _choice_ for once, you know?

“I know exactly what you mean!” said Hayley, “It’s the same with the kids in the diplomatic corps. God, it’s been so good living at Oxford and just… if I want to take the train to London? I take the train to London! Day trip to Paris? Sure! And it’s my choice and my timetable and--”

“And no one telling you where to go or what to do,” finished Natasha with a smile.

Hayley grinned and said, “How long are you in town?”

“Just for another week. I finished my last final on Tuesday and I’m staying a little bit longer just to sight-see, but then I’m going back to Berkeley.”

“I’ve got some free time. Want me to show you around town?”

“Yeah, that’d be great!” said Natasha with a bashful smile. Then she added, “Um… do you mind if I eat? I’m kind of starving.”

“Oh my gosh, please go ahead,” said Hayley.

Natasha opened up the parfait, took the plastic spoon that came with it and absolutely went to town. She took her time running the spoon over her lips and running her tongue over the top and making as much eye contact as she could as she could.

Hayley swallowed, her pupils going wide. And Natasha grinned; the intelligence had been correct. Hayley wasn’t just gay; she had a thing for _spoons_.

***

Bruce gave a disappointed sigh and said, “Ok, yes that’s a bit odd, but it’s just a _kink_ , Nat. And a pretty harmless one at that. I don’t know why you had to threaten to murder all of us if we told anyone about the time you seduced someone with a spoon.”

“Right? Christ, I’ve slept with people with _way_ weirder kinks than that,” said Tony, “There was this one guy I knew back in the late 90’s who had a _clown_ kink, and--”

“If you keep talking about your exes and their kinks I am dumping you onto the floor,” said Steve.

“Ooh, but getting dumped on the floor is _my_ kink,” said Tony with an eyebrow waggle.

Steve rolled his eyes and bodily lifted Tony like he weighed nothing, then gently set him on the couch next to him.

“Oh boo, you tease,” said Tony as he wrapped Steve’s arm around him and snuggled in next to him.

“You’re not gonna let me pretend I’m just a kinkshaming prude and that’s the reason why I’m telling this story, are you Clint?” said Nat.

“Nope,” said Clint smugly.

“Wait, why else could this possibly be called ‘The Spoons Story’?” said Rhodey.

“I’m getting there. And listen up, because if you miss anything I am _not_ repeating it.”

***

“Is something wrong, Agent Ivanov?” said Natasha.

“Sit down, Agent Romanov, this won’t take long,” said Natasha’s handler with a dismissive wave.

Natasha took an uneasy seat in the plush red chair and forced herself not to grip the carved mahogany arms. Everything had gone perfectly to plan - the Red Room had all the dirt they needed to blackmail the entire DeWitt family from here to kingdom come, and all it had taken was some creative thinking on the properties of various spoons and what they could do to the target’s erogenous zones. But agents were only ever called into the office like this when they screwed up. Natasha had half considered trying to disappear when she’d gotten the summons since she wouldn’t be the first officer to meet her death in this very room, but she knew she had nothing to hide and, more importantly, nowhere she could run. And she kept her ear to the ground well enough to keep well ahead of any plots against her. What could this meeting possibly be about?

“Agent, your work on Operation Peacoat was exemplary, but I cannot justify using our funds to finance a personal interest. Especially as extravagantly as you have,” said Agent Ivanov.

Natasha blinked, and then said, “I’m sorry?”

“Three thousand British pounds spent on…” Ivanov lowered his glasses and started reading down the list, “Paintings of spoons, photographs of spoons, bulk plastic spoons, artisan-crafted hand-carved spoons--”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Natasha with a relieved sigh.

“You’re not the first agent to attempt to use agency funds for personal interests, Agent Romanov, although you are the first to do so this blatantly. Frankly I’m disappointed in your lack of subtlety.”

“I don’t have a spoon fixation, Agent Ivanov. The target did,” said Natasha.

“I’m sorry?” he said.

So Natasha explained herself as best as she could, and assured her handler that any and all spoons purchased were solely for the purpose of completing the mission: she needed them to decorate the apartment she’d been given to use in order to play into the target’s particular kink. If he wanted he could return most of them, although she didn’t recommend returning the ones strewn around the bed. Agent Ivanov listened intently, clearly gratified that Natasha wasn’t skimming the till to beef up a weird collection. When she finished, he reached into his desk drawer and fished out his copy of the file Natasha had memorized before the mission.

“Thank you for your summary, Agent. I doubt we’ll use this target again, but I’ll make a note in her file that she has this kink, just in case.”

“There’s no need, it’s already there,” said Natasha.

Ivanov furrowed his brow and said, “Where?”

Natasha fought an eye roll as she got up, opened to the appropriate page, and pointed to the line in question.

“See?” she said with a little self-satisfied smile, “What else would ‘spooning’ mean?”

***

“I have never been more grateful in my life,” Thor said between guffaws, “To have Allspeak as my first language.”

“This is the best idea we’ve ever had, Steve,’ said Tony, who was clutching his stomach, “God, I can barely _breathe_.”

“English, am I right?” chuckled Steve, as he reached out his beer toward Nat.

“Specifically English as a second language,” said Natasha, who picked up her own beer bottle and clinked it with his.

“Oh English is my second language too. I only spoke Irish until I went to school,” said Steve.

“I didn’t know that!” said Tony, “Quick, say something in Irish.”

“Is leathcheann tú1,” said Steve fondly.

“Aw, I love you too, babe,” said Tony with a grin.

Steve continued, “But yeah, that’s English for you. You think you’ve got a handle on all the dirty words, and then one day your fifth grade teacher asks you about a book’s ‘titular character’ and you start stammering about Robinson Crusoe not having breasts.”

Nat snorted. “Is that your story?” she asked.

Tony cackled a bit and said, “Oh no, Steve’s story is _way_ worse than that. But it’s Rhodey’s turn next.”

“Can we just… 5 minutes?” said Rhodey breathlessly, “I think we all need a bathroom break to make sure we don’t pee our pants if we continue.”

“Yeah, ok,” said Tony, “but don’t you dare try to sneak out because I know exactly what story you’re about to tell, and there’s no way I’m letting you get out of telling your hilarious sex story when I’m the star of it.”

~~Translations~~

1 You're an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Any and all things in other languages are literally pulled from Google translate so if they're wrong, blame Google and maybe let me know so I can correct them.


	5. Bondage Forged in Fire

“ _What?_ ” said Natasha, “No, you two have never-- have you?”

“Good _God_ no,” said Tony, crinkling his nose in revulsion.

“Jesus of _course_ not,” said Rhodey, “Me and Tony? Can you even imagine?”

“I mean… I guess I could imagine it,” said Tony, as he stared out into middle distance and contorted his face into a series of more and more disgusted grimaces.

“Hey! Tony!” said Rhodey, snapping his fingers in the direction of Tony’s face, “Stop imagining having sex with me.”

“Thanks Rhodey,” said Tony, sounding relieved.

“No it’s-- hang on, can I get to this in 5 minutes? I really do need to pee,” said Rhodey.

“5 minutes,” said Natasha, “Then we get to hear how your funniest sex story somehow features Tony without you sleeping with him.”

***

“Look on the bright side. This’ll make for a great story someday,” said Gina.

“Yeah, I’m sure the grandkids will _love_ hearing about grandma and grandpa’s first time trying bondage, but right now my hands are going numb,” said Rhodey.

Rhodey was naked in his dorm room’s twin bed. His hands and his ankles were handcuffed to the bed posts and a long-forgotten ball-gag was around his neck. Gina, Rhodey’s girlfriend, was kneeling on the floor over a heating vent and trying to twist the long bit of wire she was holding in a way that would snag the handcuff key that had fallen inside. But she paused at what Rhodey had said and, after shyly brushing some long curls out of her eyes, looked over at him.

“...grandkids? We’re already thinking about grandkids?”

Rhodey felt his face get hot. He’d been quietly saving for a ring, but they both still had the rest of the year to go until graduation and Rhodey didn’t want to scare her off with how certain he was already that this girl was his future.

“Hey! Don’t freak out,” said Gina, “I-- yeah. I want to have a conversation about our future too, James. But maybe not right now.”

Rhodey smiled and said, “Yeah. Yeah, ok. And you’re right - not right now.”

Gina stood up and Rhodey almost forgot the predicament they were in, because _damn_ she looked good in lingerie.

“This isn’t working. I can’t get the key, babe,” said Gina.

“Well what are we going to do, then?” said Rhodey.

Gina gave Rhodey a pointed look.

“ _No_. No, anything but that,” said Rhodey.

“You really think he couldn’t pick these locks in a heartbeat?”

“I wouldn’t care if one of his damn robots had my balls in a vice right now, we are _not_ asking Tony for help.”

“Well, I don’t know anyone else who picks locks!”

“This is MIT! We are literally surrounded by people who can probably pick locks.”

“What do you want me to do, knock on every door and say, ‘Excuse me, my boyfriend and I suck at BDSM. Can you pick handcuffs?’”

“That would be preferable to getting Tony, yes.”

Gina rolled her eyes, but then it looked like she was struck with an idea.

“Baby, we bought the cuffs not even five blocks away. Do you think--”

“ _Yes!_ ” said Rhodey, “Yes, Gina, God bless that big beautiful brain of yours. You go to the sex shop and either ask for a spare key or buy a whole new set if you have to, and I’ll just… wait here.”

“What? No, James, I can’t just leave you here.”

“Oh, you’re gonna carry the bed with you to the sex shop? I’ll be _fine_ Gina.”

“What if there’s a fire? What if--”

“Gina, there’s not going to be a fire. Just go, everything is going to be _fine_.”

20 minutes later, Rhodey smelled smoke and cursed his hubris.

The smoke was still just a smell at this point, not even enough to set off the smoke alarms, but outside the window Rhodey could see the flicker of firelight. He realized that even if Gina came back _right now_ they wouldn’t let her inside the building if it was on fire, which meant he was either about to get rescued by some firefighters who’d see him like this… or something way, way worse was about to happen.

“No, I am _not_ going to die like this,” said Rhodey through gritted teeth, as he pulled on the cuffs. He tried to ignore the pain as they dug into his wrists and ankles but ultimately he gave up. The bed frame wasn’t giving. He was trapped.

Someone slammed their hand against the door. And it had happened so many times before that by this point Rhodey knew who it was just by the way he knocked.

“Tony!” shouted Rhodey as relief surged through him, “Tony, listen--”

“Rhodey, some unidentified but extremely handsome undergrad may have hooked up a microwave outside the building and then filled it with matches, but that person, whoever he may be, did _not_ intend to catch the tree on fire, so I need--”

“Tony, shut the fuck up, I literally do not care. I need you to pick the lock on the door and get in here. I’m stuck.”

There was quiet for a moment, and then what sounded like the jingling of keys. In a few seconds 16-year-old Tony Stark was in the room. A few seconds later he was doubled over and shaking with laughter.

“Yes, I know how funny this is, Tony, but… wait, why do you have a key to my room?”

“Oh my _God_ ,” gasped Tony, “Just… wait here, I need to get my camera.”

“The building is literally _on fire right now_ , Tony, there are other priorities than taking pictures for your amusement!” shouted Rhodey.

“My amusement is _always_ priority number one, Rhodey. And relax, the fire’s just on the tree outside the dorm, not the building. It’s not--”

The fire alarm started to blare.

“God, you’d think they’d learn by now that the fire alarms at MIT need to be a notch less sensitive than average,” said Tony, shaking his head.

“Tony, if you don’t pick the locks on my cuffs _right the fuck now_ , I am going to tell the administrators who keeps sneaking into their offices and replacing their telephones with Playskool phones,” said Rhodey.

“I dunno, Rhodey, I kind of think I’m the one calling the shots right now. Isn’t that what BDSM is all about?” said Tony with a smirk. Then his eyes went wide and he said, “Oh my God! The _real_ BDSM was _literally_ the friends you made along the way!”

“Yes, haha, you’re hilarious, now _get me the fuck out of these cuffs!_ ” yelled Rhodey.

“ _Relax_ , Rhodey, I’ve got you. But you owe me one,” said Tony as he took out his keys again.

“Cancel it against one of the hundred you owe me. Wait-- why do you have a handcuff key on your keychain, Tony?”

“What, you don’t?” said Tony as he unlocked the cuffs, “Where’s Gina by the way? She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d chain you up and leave you here.”

“The key we had fell down the vent. She went to get another one from the sex shop,” said Rhodey as he massaged his wrists, “Now you go outside with the rest of the crowd, I need to knock on doors to get everyone else on the floor out.”

“Ooh, are you putting on clothes first? Please tell me you’re not, and that I can go get my camera and take pictures of you knocking on everyone’s door naked.”

“ _Go_ , Tony,” said Rhodey as he pulled on some pants.

“I mean, there’s a _fire_ , Rhodey. Time is too precious for pants.”

“Fine, don’t go. Hang out here, and I’ll write you up for ignoring the fire drill,” said Rhodey as he slipped on some flip flops and hastily pulled on a tee shirt.

“Wait, Rhodey--”

“See you outside, Tony,” said Rhodey as he walked out the door.

***

“I have so many questions I don’t even know where to start,” said Jane between giggles.

“How the _hell_ did the key fall down the vent in the first place?” wheezed Clint.

“Honestly? It was literally something out of The Three Stooges. It just… fell out of her hand, and when she went to pick it up she ended up kicking it in the vent,” said Rhodey.

“Why did you have a key to Rhodey’s room, Tony?” asked Bruce.

“Oh, I had keys to get into everywhere important,” said Tony. Then he started ticking off locations on his fingers, “Rhodey’s room, the robotics lab, all the administrator’s offices, all the broom closets--”

“Do you have keys to all of our rooms right now?” asked Bruce.

“Don’t need’em. Jarvis can always let me in if I need it,” said Tony with a shrug.

Bruce squinted at Tony, then said, “Have you ever--”

“The answer to your question is ‘probably,’ but I think we’re losing focus here,” said Tony with a dismissive hand wave.

“Why did you fill a microwave with matches and then turn it on?” asked Steve.

Tony snorted and asked, “Have you _met_ me?”

“MIT’s like that, Steve,” said Rhodey, with something between a fond smile and a grimace, “I saw students take literally whatever shit they had on hand and hack it, blow it up, set it on fire, melt it, weld it to other shit, fly it into the upper atmosphere, microwave it, superheat it, freeze it, superheat and _then_ freeze it--”

“And that’s just the everyday stuff. That’s not even getting into the hacks,” said Tony, going all misty-eyed at a fond memory.

“Hacks are what they call pranks at MIT. And to this day nobody can figure out how Tony managed to pull his big one off,” said Rhodey.

“I mean _anybody_ could’ve covered every interior surface of the Howard Stark administration building with a custom-made bouncy castle. I don’t know why everyone assumes it was _me_ ,” said Tony with a mischievous grin.

“This place sounds amazing. Are there any pictures of the two of you there?” asked Thor.

Rhodey chuckled and said, “Yeah. There’s actually a picture from that night, and I’m assuming it’s taking every atom of Tony’s self-control right now not to put it up on the screen already.”

“You assume correctly,” said Tony.

“But he’s being kind enough to let me finish telling the story first. And yeah, there’s more.”

***

“Taylor, I can’t keep having this conversation with you. No pets allowed in the dorm,” said Rhodey gently, but firmly.

“But Jabba’s just a _toad_ ,” said the teary blonde undergrad, clutching the animal to her chest as she stood outside in the cold.

“Toads are animals, Taylor, which means they’re pets. Now, do you want to call your parents and ask them to figure out a living situation for Jabba, or am I making that call for you?”

Taylor wiped her eyes and said miserably, “I’ll call them.”

“Thank you, Taylor,” said Rhodey, patting her on the shoulder. Then he turned toward all the other undergrads shivering on the green and said, “Does anyone here need a blanket? The fire department should be done soon, but in the meantime I--”

Rhodey stopped, because he noticed what he’d mistaken for shivering was actually everyone snickering at him.

“What’s so funny?” said Rhodey.

“Fire alarm catch you off guard, Jim?” said Blake, one of the dorm’s snarkier residents.

“I don’t see what bearing that has on--”

“No ball bearing at all!” said Blake.

Everyone around him snorted with poorly-concealed laughter. Rhodey narrowed his eyes. His RA senses were telling him Blake’s comment meant someone had probably done something with ball bearings, and Rhodey immediately started cataloguing possibilities ranging from the easy (they were strewn somewhere someone could trip) to the only-at-MIT (there was a contraption about to release them into a solution that would react with the metal and explode).

“There’s my favorite RA!” said a familiar voice behind Rhodey.

Rhodey felt the familiar mix of his blood pressure rising coupled with relief that Tony showing up meant that he was ok.

“Where the hell have you been?” said Rhodey, turning to face him.

“Sorry, couldn’t find my camera. So I tried to see if I could make one real quick, but then I realized it was easier to break into Gina’s room and borrow hers. Only one picture left, though.”

“Ok, thank you for helping me out earlier tonight, but you can’t just break into people’s rooms and take their stuff without asking,” said Rhodey.

“I mean I _would’ve_ asked, if Gina was there,” said Tony with an eye roll, “Where is she anyway? Shouldn’t she be back by now?”

“I was wondering the same thing. You don’t think she’s in trouble do you?” asked Rhodey.

Tony looked over Rhodey’s shoulder and said, “I mean, she might be.”

Rhodey turned around and saw Gina walking towards them with a police officer in tow.

“Babe! What happened?” asked Rhodey.

“Oh, you got free on your own!” said Gina.

She and Rhodey hugged, then Gina said, “Wait, did something actually catch fire while I was gone?”

“Yeah, in hindsight we definitely jinxed it,” said Rhodey, who then turned toward the police officer and said, “Um… hello?”

“Oh, this is Officer Dixon,” said Gina, “The sex shop was closed and I was going to wander up the block to see if there was any other store that would hypothetically sell handcuffs, and then I saw him walk by and thought ‘ _He_ probably has a key. Why not ask him?’ But it wasn’t until I was talking to him that I realized someone wearing nothing but lingerie and a heavy coat asking for a police officer’s handcuff keys probably looked kind of dodgy, which led to me spending a _lot_ of time explaining I wasn’t a sex worker and could prove it if he’d just come back to MIT with me, and officer I _swear_ this man was cuffed to a bed 45 minutes ago, I don’t know how--”

“I un-cuffed him,” said Tony appearing next to them. Then he nodded at the officer and said, “Hey Dix.”

“Stark,” replied the officer coolly

Gina looked between all three of them and said, “Do I even want to know?”

“Dix, you can go, Gina was telling the truth - she and Rhodey are dating and he really was having a bad BDSM time when she went to find you. But I took care of it,” said Tony.

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Officer Dixon with a smirk, then he said, “I got the call to come and help investigate the fire on my way here anyway. We’re not gonna find any evidence it was you, will we?”

“You definitely won’t find any evidence,” said Tony, examining his nails.

“Don’t worry, I’m his RA. I’ll make sure he pays for it whether you pin it on him or not, officer,” promised Rhodey.

Officer Dixon chuckled, then said, “Yeah, that tracks. Have a good evening all of you. And for the love of God, Stark, try to stay out of trouble.”

“Say hi to the guys at the station for me,” Tony called at his retreating back.

Rhodey sighed, then said, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“How’d he know you were cuffed to the bed?” asked Gina.

“Beats me,” said Rhodey.

“Rhodey, you’ve really got to be more careful with your word choices,” chuckled Tony, “And Gina, I know you’re probably a bit flustered right now, but take a step back, look at Rhodey, and see for yourself.”

Gina took a step back, looked Rhodey up and down, and burst out laughing.

“Oh _Christ_ , not you too,” said Rhodey, “The residents, the Resident Director, the freaking _provost_ , everyone thinks an inside out tee shirt is hilarious tonight.”

“It’s not the tee-shirt, Rhodey. Anyway, now we’re all present and accounted for, get in here,” said Tony, who held up the Polaroid at arm’s length and took a picture of the three of them together.

“Is that my camera?” asked Gina.

“Rhodey said I could borrow it,” said Tony as he took out the picture and started waving it around to help it develop faster.

“I did _not_ say that. And I’m writing you up for theft when I get back to my room.”

“If I tell you why everyone’s laughing at you, will you agree not to write me up?” said Tony.

“I think that’s up to Gina,” said Rhodey.

“I mean, you did un-cuff him. I can let it pass this time,” said Gina.

“Gina, you are by _far_ the coolest girlfriend Rhodey’s ever had,” said Tony, then he turned to Rhodey, pressed the polaroid he’d taken into his hands and said, “I guess a deal’s a deal. See for yourself, Rhodes.”

Rhodey watched the picture as it developed and felt the blood drain from his face.

***

“Wait, were there ball bearings somewhere?” said Jane.

“No, you’ll see in a second what Blake meant,” said Rhodey. Then he turned to Tony and said, “You can show them the picture now.”

“J? Bring up my favorite picture on the tv,” said Tony.

In an instant, there was a picture of Steve lying on a bed giving a “come hither” look, completely naked except for the shield strategically positioned over his genitals. Steve immediately turned crimson, and everyone else burst out laughing.

“Jarvis, email that picture to everyone in this room, please,” said Natasha.

Steve yelled, “ _Wait!_ Jarvis don’t--”

“Email sent,” said Jarvis.

“Sorry, honey. My bad,” said Tony, patting Steve’s hand.

“I am going to kick your ass _so hard_ at sparring tomorrow,” said Steve.

“Oh, you know what? I’m busy tomorrow. I need to… reverse the polarity on the deflector dish.”

“No he doesn’t, Steve, he’s quoting _Star Trek_ ,” said Jane.

Tony gave an exasperated sigh and said, “Jarvis, get my favorite picture of me, Rhodey and Gina at MIT.”

In another moment, there was teenage Tony and barely-not-teenage Rhodey and his now wife Gina, framed in a polaroid picture. Tony was wearing a Slayer tee shirt and had a huge amused smile on his face. Gina had on a heavy coat and her eyes were sparkling with repressed laughter. Rhodey’s tee shirt was inside out and backwards and he was wearing a thoroughly unamused frown.

Rhodey also had a ball-gag yoked around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's story about setting the tree on fire is based on two stories: one from a friend who said she knew she wanted to go to MIT when she came to visit and someone had filled a barrel with matchstick heads, set it on fire in the courtyard, then run. The other was from my own time at college when someone set a tree on fire just because they could.
> 
> Ah college.
> 
> (But also don't do arson, kids)


	6. It's All Greek to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: There are snippets of Greek in this chapter. They were taken from Google translate. If you actually speak Greek and I wrote something stupid, please leave a comment for correction.

“Uh, Bruce,” said Rhodey carefully, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but do we need to move to the containment floor for your story?”

“Nah, it happened so long ago that I can laugh at it now. I hope it’s ok if it’s more of a start-of-relationship story than a sex one. I promise it’s appropriately mortifying, though.”

“Is this about Betty?” asked Tony.

Bruce furrowed his brow and said, “How--”

“I cyber-stalked all of you before we ever set foot in the helicarrier. Or at least I tried to. God knows none of you exactly have a Twitter feed.”

“I have a Twitter now!” said Thor proudly.

“Yes, Thor, and it is literally the greatest thing on the internet,” said Tony with a barely-suppressed laugh, “But Bruce, you at least had some photos of your time at Yale on their website, and Dr. Betty Ross was next to you in all of them.”

Bruce squinted, and said, “When’s my birthday?”

“It’s in… June?” asked Tony.

“December. What color are my eyes?” said Bruce, closing his eyes.

“...brown?” said Tony.

“You’re right but that was a guess. Now - have I ever gotten a tattoo?”

“Hell yeah you have. You got a dragonfly tramp stamp after you defended your first thesis on dragonfly habitats and got really drunk afterward, then you got it removed two years later when-- what’s so funny?”

“Tony, for a genius, sometimes your brain is transparent enough for a sophomore-level psychology seminar,” said Bruce with a chuckle.

“I take offense to that. I am freshman-level at _most_ ,” said Tony.

“Alright, some of us don’t live here and want to get back home before dawn,” said Rhodey, “Bruce, tell us about your embarrassing meet-cute with Betty.”

***

“What’s Betty’s deal, do you know?” asked Bruce.

Ahmed turned toward Bruce and squinted. Neither Bruce nor Ahmed were particularly socially adept, and until that point they’d enjoyed a relationship that was 100% focused on the research they were doing, with absolutely 0 small talk or any other attempt to get to know each other. And Bruce could tell Ahmed was feeling betrayed that Bruce would jeopardize such a perfect relationship by talking about non-work-related things.

“Um… what do you mean?” said Ahmed awkwardly.

“She’s been here what, six months now? Have you ever heard her say anything to anyone in that time?” said Bruce.

“No. She likes to focus on her work,” said Ahmed. _Like we should,_ floated unspoken between them.

“I mean, she doesn’t even talk about work-related stuff, though. She just… shows up and pipettes from dawn to dusk,” said Bruce.

Ahmed gave an exasperated sigh and said, “I don’t know, Bruce, maybe she’s got an accent she’s self-conscious about. She’s pretty far from home here.”

“Oh? Where’s she from?” said Bruce.

“Athens,” said Ahmed, and _wow_ , that really was far from home.

“Maybe there’s a language barrier,” said Bruce absentmindedly as he looked across the lab at where Betty was sitting, focusing intently on pipetting a series of test tubes, her long dark hair tied back in a pony-tail and her face screwed up in concentration.

“I don’t know, Bruce. Um, can we get back to cataloguing these samples please?” said Ahmed hopefully.

“Hm? Oh yeah, sure,” said Bruce, the beginnings of a plan starting to form on the edge of his consciousness.

Three months of intensive studying later, Bruce screwed up his courage and walked over to Betty.

“Χαῖρε1,” said Bruce.

Betty started a bit and looked up at Bruce.

“Uh, xαῖρε1,” said Betty, “Bruce, right?”

“Yeah,” said Bruce with a small smile. Betty’s accent was almost perfect. But not wanting to _completely_ waste his new language he added, “But uh… I speak Greek. I actually _am_ Greek, ethnically.”

“Oh!” said Betty, “Ok.”

An interminable silence stretched between them.

“Uh, anyway,” said Bruce, “You’re here a lot.”

“Yes,” said Betty, “Virology postdoc.”

“Oh, I was thinking of getting a virology PhD next,” said Bruce.

“Next?” said Betty.

“Yeah, uh, I’ve already got a couple PhDs, plus an MD. I’m kind of bad at doing anything that’s not research, and I’m also bad at sticking to one specialty,” said Bruce with an embarrassed shuffle of his feet.

“Wow. But… sorry, you just look really young,” said Betty.

“I started college when I was 12,” said Bruce, his spirits sinking. He’d had this conversation enough times to know where it was going and that he’d already blown it. In a second Betty would start praising his brain for a lack of anything better to say, and then she’d avoid him like the plague because nobody knew how to talk to people like Bruce.

“I’m sorry,” said Betty.

Bruce blinked, then said, “Pardon?”

“Oh! I apologize, I shouldn’t assume--”

“No it’s ok. It’s just… most people don’t say that.”

“My uh… my sister’s gifted too. And our parents, they did the same thing yours did - shipped her off to college when she was 13. And being so far from home and anyone her age, she never really recovered from it. She’s um… she’s in and out of rehab a lot.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Bruce, who really did feel sorry but there was also a tinge of warmth in his gut. It was nice, talking to someone who understood the kind of fallout that can come from a childhood like Bruce had had.

“Oh it’s ok! I mean, it’s not ok. But I’m ok. And-- fuck, I am _blowing this_ ,” said Betty. Then her eyes went wide and she said, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. And I’m not...you know. On drugs, or anything,” said Bruce, immediately regretting the words as soon as he said them.

“Oh. Ok,” said Betty.

Another interminable silence stretched between them.

“I’m gonna--” said Bruce, pointing behind him.

“Yeah, I need to--” said Betty, pointing to her microscope slides.

“But it was nice talking to you, Betty,” said Bruce.

“You too,” said Betty.

Bruce hurried out of the lab, back to his tiny office, sat down at his office chair and planted his face on his desk.

“Smooth, Banner. Real smooth,” he mumbled against the battered wooden desktop.

Bruce spent the next three months making himself small any time Betty came near him in the lab, which was even less frequently than before, since Betty also seemed determined to steer clear of him. Bruce was seriously considering transferring somewhere else to finish his current PhD when one day he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Χαῖρε1,” said Betty sheepishly.

“Oh! Χαῖρε1,” said Bruce. Betty was talking to him in her native language, and Bruce had no idea what to make of that.

Betty thumbed over her shoulder toward the exit and said, “Καφές?2”

Bruce grinned, and said, “ναι παρακαλώ.3”

***

“Oh my god,” said Jane, her hands on the sides of her face, “I know exactly where this is going.”

“Care to share with the class?” said Tony, obviously a little peeved that anyone had figured out something faster than he had.

“Let Bruce finish his story, honey,” said Steve as he stroked his thumb soothingly over the back of Tony’s hand, “Although, Jane, I’m with you. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling a bit better about my story now,” said Natasha with a wry smile.

“I’m lost too, Tony,” said Thor.

“Well _that_ makes me feel better,” muttered Tony.

“So am I, Tones,” said Rhodey. Then he turned to Bruce and said, “Finish up, Bruce. When did this turn from an adorable meet-cute into mortifying one?”

“Not till a year later, actually,” said Bruce, “When both of our parents happened to be in town, and we all decided to go out to eat and get acquainted.”

***

“Is it ok if we stick to English today, sweetheart?” said Betty.

Bruce frowned. He’d gotten really good at Greek over the last year they’d been dating, especially since Betty was kind enough to match her level to his as he scaled up his skills. And he’d been working the last couple of weeks on matching Betty’s particular accent too, so he’d be prepared to meet her parents. Maybe Betty assumed he couldn’t hack it with some fluent speakers in their dialect? Was Betty still dumbing down her Greek for him?

“It’s just-- I want to make sure everyone understands us. First impressions are important, you know?” said Betty.

“Ok,” said Bruce, feeling a little better. It made sense that Betty didn’t want his parents cut out of the conversation, “That’s very considerate of you.”

“I just hope the restaurant’s up to your parents’ standards,” said Betty with a small laugh.

“Nah, it’ll be fine. It’s good food, and even if it wasn’t my parents wouldn’t know good Greek food if it hit them in the face. Grandma was a terrible cook,” said Bruce.

Betty frowned, but then they heard someone shout, “Hey honeybunch!” They turned and saw what must’ve been Betty’s parents. Betty ran over and hugged them, and introduced Bruce.

“So nice to finally meet you, Bruce,” said Betty’s father Joe, holding out his hand.

Bruce shook it and suppressed a chuckle. Betty’s dad must’ve learned his excellent English from a teacher with a Southern accent, because there was a distinct twang to his speech.

“Betty’s told us so much about you,” said Betty’s mom, Dot, and… she had a twang too? Maybe people learned English from _Dallas_ reruns in Greece.

“All good things, I hope,” said Bruce, “Let’s head inside.”

Bruce’s parents were already at the table, and they took to Betty like a fish to water, just like Bruce knew they would.

“Thank you for coming all the way out here!” said Betty

“Oh it’s not that far, sweetie,” said Bruce’s mom, Diane, “We’d swing by more often if Bruce wasn’t always so busy.”

Betty chuckled and said, “Sure, who doesn’t love more frequent flier miles.”

“Oh honey, we’re only coming in from _Long Island_ ,” said Diane with a laugh.

Betty frowned again, and she said, “I’m not familiar with that island.”

“Not fam-- Bruce, we’ve got to get this poor girl in our house for Thanksgiving this year, so she can experience the wonders of our iced tea with no actual tea in it and pizza too good for the city,” said John, Bruce’s father.

Betty got very quiet for some reason, but Joe cut in and said, “Only if we get Bruce for Thanksgiving next year, so we can shower him with proper barbecue and peaches.”

“You… celebrate Thanksgiving?” said Bruce, who was very, very confused at the moment.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we?” said Dot.

“Bruce, sweetheart--” said Betty.

“I mean hey, who doesn’t love an excuse to eat too much turkey, right? But you’ve got to tell me about Greek barbecue, I’ve never heard of it,” said Bruce.

There was quiet for a second, and then Betty said, “Um… could you excuse Bruce and me for a moment, please?”

Bruce almost protested, but Betty had an iron grip around his wrist as she pulled Bruce out of the restaurant to the street outside.

“Bruce, I don’t know how to ask this, but did you fake being Greek to impress me?” asked Betty quietly.

“What? No! My mom’s parents came over from Greece back in the day. Here in the states when we say we’re Greek we mean--”

“Why are you talking to me about the states like I’m not from here too? And why the hell have we been speaking Greek to each other from day one if you’re not from Greece?” said Betty.

Something like panic started to rise in Bruce’s chest as his subconscious started to connect weird conversations they’d had and odd notes in Betty’s Greek that Bruce had brushed off over the past year.

“You’re… not from Athens?” said Bruce, feeling his heart hammering in his chest.

There was a beat, and then Betty just started _laughing_. And yeah, Bruce was freaking out but Betty’s laughter was music, and he’d never heard her laugh this hard before.

“Georgia, honey,” said Betty as she wiped the tears from her eyes, “Athens, Georgia.”

***

“God, I knew it was coming and it didn’t matter,” gasped Jane.

“I can’t breathe,” wheezed Clint, “I can’t-- it’s too much, I _can’t_.”

“Bruce, I am officially challenging you for the title of least stupid Avenger,” laughed Natasha.

“I don’t understand. Why should it be so funny that Bruce confused Betty’s birthplace by a mere several thousand miles?” said Thor.

“Yeah, I can see that being confusing to people with a bifrost. You’re just gonna have to write this one off as funny-on-Midgard, Thor,” said Clint.

“This is why nerds shouldn’t date each other,” said Tony, who was finally coherent enough to speak, “Shit like that doesn’t happen when at least one of the two of you can’t learn a language in three months.”

“I could learn a language in three months too,” said Steve, “Super-recall, remember?”

“Yeah, but you _wouldn’t_. Not to get a date. And that’s the difference,” said Tony.

“I dunno, me and Gina worked out pretty well,” said Rhodey.

“Yeah, because she’s the nerd and you’re the normal person in that relationship,” said Tony.

“I have a degree in mathematics from MIT!” said Rhodey indignantly.

“Yeah, and any time Gina and I talk about the _Star Wars_ extended universe, your soul leaves your body until we’re done,” said Tony.

“There’s an _extended_ universe? More than all of the movies?” said Steve, with what sounded like mild horror.

“See? The next time Gina and I get on about the _Thrawn_ trilogy, you can excuse yourself and call Steve and talk about, I dunno, boot camp or something,” said Tony.

“Ah yes, boot camp. Because that’s the sum of the American military experience,” said Rhodey.

“So many _boots_ ,” said Steve.

“So much _camp_ ,” shuddered Rhodey.

“What did your parents say when you got back to the table?” asked Jane.

“Oh they figured out the miscommunication too when we were gone. After they finished laughing at the sight of us, my dad put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Bruce, for a guy with an IQ that big you sure are an idiot.’ Betty’s parents said something similar to her.”

“How come--” started Tony, but Steve gave Tony a hard poke in the side. Tony shot Steve a _What the fuck?_ look and Steve returned a look of his own that said _Don’t, Tony._

Bruce smiled a little sadly and said, “It’s ok, Steve. To answer your question, Tony… John Lennon was wrong. You need a lot more than love to make a relationship work.”

Bruce sat back with a sigh, ran a hand through his hair and said, “Betty got an opportunity to work on polio eradication in Somalia. And I got offered a job at Caltech working on the bleeding edge of gamma radiation research, studying how it might be the key to the super soldier serum. Neither of us would let the other sacrifice their career, and we couldn’t make it work over long distance.”

Thor and Jane shifted uncomfortably. Steve pulled Tony a little tighter against him.

“That sucks, Bruce. I’m sorry,” said Rhodey.

“I’m not,” said Bruce, “Betty… she was a really great chapter in my life. It wasn’t meant to be forever, but some people go their whole lives and don’t get to experience something like we had. I’m just glad it happened at all.”

“Alright, just for that, I’m letting you keep the least stupid Avenger title, Bruce,” said Natasha.

“What if I want that title?” said Tony.

Everyone snorted.

“I literally _just_ told a story about you filling a microwave with matches and turning it on,” said Rhodey.

“Oh _come on_ , like none of you have ever stuck anything in a microwave just to see what would happen,” said Tony. Everyone shook their heads. Tony gaped at everyone incredulously and said, “Jarvis, order 100 microwaves for the tower. We’re having a _science_ day.”

“Yes!” said Thor.

“ _No_ ,” said everyone else.

“Babe, you’re not making a great case for being the least stupid Avenger right now,” said Steve barely suppressing a laugh.

Tony scoffed loudly and said, “Ok, just for that, you’re taking your turn now.”

“I was going to anyway, if we’re ending with Clint,” said Steve.

“Yeah, but _symbolically_ , I won,” said Tony.

“And _symbolically_ you’re the least stupid Avenger,” said Steve.

“Don’t you sass me, Rogers,” said Tony.

“ _One_ of us has to be the sassy one in this relationship,” sassed Steve.

“You are _not_ \--”

“Boys!” clapped Natasha, “Stop flirting so Steve can finally give us what we came here for.”

“Yeah, Steve,” said Clint, leaning forward in his chair, “What the hell did you confess to Tony that got you to stop wanting to die when we made sex jokes?”

~~Translations~~

1Hello.

2Coffee?

3Yes, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to add that Tony's being facetious - nerds make adorable couples. But speaking from experience, we do have a tendency to magnify each other's idiocy XD
> 
> I know Tony makes it sound like fun, but please don't stick random things in the microwave just to see what'll happen.


	7. Socks

“Oh man, you are in for a _treat_ ,” said Tony, “Steve’s is a _doozy_.”

“I dunno, I think it’s gonna be hard to top… beat… _surpass_ Mr. Dick,” said Rhodey.

“That’s funny, I was going to say running into MIT’s provost with a ball-gag around your neck is the story to beat,” said Jane.

“I kind of think Nat’s winning right now,” said Bruce.

“All of you are wrong. Steve has by _far_ the funniest and most embarrassing story of the night,” said Tony.

“Yeah, Tony might be right,” said Steve, “It’s um… it’s bad.”

“How bad?” said Natasha, sizing up Steve’s uncomfortable body language to get an answer before Steve could even say it.

“Pretty bad,” winced Steve, “But at least I can say confidently that the whole thing was Bucky’s fault.”

***

“What I wouldn’t give for another round of pneumonia right now,” said Steve miserably.

Bucky rolled his eyes and said, “Stevie, you’re supposed to be excited before you go on dates, you know that? Besides, if you get pneumonia now we won’t be able to hit the town for your 17th in two weeks.”

“I could recover before then. You never know,” mumbled Steve.

“Yeah, and I could live to be a hundred’n fifty,” said Bucky.

Steve was in his room, getting ready for the blind date Bucky had set him up with. Darla was, Bucky promised, pretty and smart and had a great sense of humor. Which meant Bucky was either a liar or Steve had no idea what the hell she was doing dating an asthmatic shrimp like him. There was, of course, a third possibility, but Bucky had promised he wouldn’t lie about Steve’s height or build again.

“It won’t be like it was with Mary, Stevie. I _promise_ ,” said Bucky, reading his mind.

“You don’t know she won’t laugh too when she sees me with her own two eyes, no matter what you told her,” said Steve.

“Darla’s not like that, Stevie! Besides, most women don’t give a shit how big you are, so long as you’re big in the right places,” said Bucky with a wink.

“I-- what? What are you talking about?” said Steve.

Bucky sighed. “Where would you be without me to teach you this stuff? I meant that women like guys with big cocks, Stevie. Because it means better sex.”

“Uhhh… I wasn’t… we’re not…” stammered Steve, as he felt his face get hot.

“Relax, Stevie, I know you’d never on a first date,” laughed Bucky, “But you’d like to do it one day, right? In theory at least?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” said Steve.

“Well, Darla wants to do it too, one day. Likely with a fella she’s been with for a while, who’s dependable and handsome and can show her a good time in more ways than one,” said Bucky with a shrug.

Steve had thought he’d catalogued every piece of his anatomy he could feel self-conscious about, but Bucky had just opened up a whole new world of insecurity to him.

“Wait - do women… look? At their date’s trousers like that?” said Steve, who was now very thoroughly examining how his pants laid on him in the mirror.

“I mean, probably? We check out their cans, right?” said Bucky.

“I should change,” said Steve, already undoing his belt buckle.

“No, God, Stevie, you’re _fine_. Don’t worry about it. C’mon, we’ve been in enough locker rooms together, you know you’re _fine_.”

“Yeah, but Darla’s gonna take one look and assume it’s as puny as the rest of me!” said Steve.

Bucky groaned and said, “This is all you’re gonna be thinking about on this date, aren’t you? Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?”

The downstairs clock chimed the hour, and Steve felt like it was counting down to his doom.

“I can’t do this, Buck. Just… go for me and tell Darla I’m sick.”

“No. No, I am _not_ gonna sink your first date in six months because you lost a dick-measuring contest with _yourself_ ,” said Bucky as he looked around the room. He eventually went over to Steve’s bureau, opened the top drawer, and started stuffing all of Steve’s socks inside each other.

“Buck?” said Steve.

“Matthew used to do this before all of his first dates, Stevie. Here, put this down your drawers,” grinned Bucky.

Steve eyed the sock ball and said, “Didn’t… didn’t your brother have some explaining to do if he ever, uh…”

“Stevie, the idea is to make a good first impression, you don’t keep it in after the first date. Now c’mon, stick this in place and get going or you’re gonna be late.”

One hour and two milkshakes later, Steve and Darla were taking a walk through the neighborhood in the warm late afternoon. The date was going... well, it was going. Darla was pretty enough and hadn’t laughed at him, and she liked to draw too. They’d spent a little time talking charcoal vs. pencils and their backgrounds and families, but now the two of them were walking and what had started off as a companionable silence was now stretching out into an awkward one as neither of them knew what to say to each other.

“So um,” said Steve, “Do you like walking?”

“Mm? Oh, sure,” said Darla.

“Good. Good, yeah. Me too,” said Steve.

“Do you walk a lot?” said Darla.

“Sure, sure,” said Steve.

Silence. Steve dug his hands into his pockets.

“So do you wanna call it a night?” said Steve. It was still light out, but Steve was completely out of ideas for anything else to do.

“Yeah,” said Darla, “That’s if, um… do you--”

“No, sure, that’s fine,” said Steve.

“I ah… I had a nice time, Steve,” lied Darla.

“Me too,” lied Steve.

They’d only gone another two steps when Steve noticed what his hands in his pockets weren’t feeling.

“Steve? Are you alright?” said Darla.

Steve realized he’d stopped walking, and that his face likely looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Oh, I’m fine I just--” Steve tried to move forward in a way that didn’t disturb the mass of wool and cotton that was presently perched over his right knee. “Sorry, got a uh… a cramp. In my leg.”

“Oh, do you want to sit on the bench for a bit?” said Darla.

“No! No, I’m _fine_ ,” said Steve as he continued to hobble forward, “I’ll just--”

Steve was so preoccupied with the sock ball he completely missed the uneven pavement and tripped forward. He managed to catch himself, but literally the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to him happened right then, and the socks fell out of the leg of his pants.

Darla looked at the socks and said, “Um, Steve?”

Darla might’ve said something else, but Steve didn’t hear it. He was already booking it home.

***

“Why… are men… _idiots_ ,” gasped Jane.

“I don’t know, Jane. I don’t know,” laughed Natasha.

“ _God_ I wish I could’ve met Bucky,” said Clint as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” said Steve a little sadly.

“But we _are_ meeting him,” said Thor with a broad smile. When everyone turned to look at him, Thor continued, “In Asgard, we believe people really only live at all in the impact they have on the world around them. When we tell stories of those who’ve gone on to Valhalla, we extend that impact, and invite the departed to become a part of a new person’s life. Bucky’s body and consciousness might not physically be here, but if his actions are making us laugh then Bucky is very much alive to me at least.”

There was a beat, and then Steve said, “Thank you Thor. That’s… that means a lot.”

“Of course. Although this Bucky does sound like he brought trouble with him wherever he went,” Thor chuckled.

“Not as much trouble as I brought him,” said Steve with a fond smile, “And uh… the trouble’s not done yet.”

***

“ _All_ of them?”

“All of them, Ma.”

Sarah Rogers had a hand on one hip and a wash basket on the other.

“And there’s nothin’ left?” she said, her brogue getting thicker as she got more incredulous, “No spare wool I can join and knit into new socks?”

“Nope,” said Steve.

“Goodness. Even the moths are extra hungry these days. Well what about your cotton socks?”

 _Fuck!_ thought Steve, but out loud he said, “My cotton socks?”

“Surely those were left alone,” said Sarah.

“No, those are gone too.”

“Are they now?” said Sarah with raised eyebrows, “Well what on earth happened to them, Steven?”

“The moths must’ve been _really hungry_ ,” said Steve, “They got those too.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Not even the cottons are safe! You must not have a stitch left to wear!”

“Oh no, all my other clothes are fine. The moths stuck to the sock drawer.”

There was a pause that either lasted a second or an eternity, and then she said, “Well thank goodness for small miracles then.”

“Yeah, thank goodness,” said Steve.

“How on earth did you miss them?” said Sarah.

“What?” said Steve.

“Surely you open your _sock_ drawer every day, Steven. And they can’t have done it all in one _night_.”

“They… they did though.”

“They _did_?”

“They must’ve been really, _really_ hungry moths.”

Sarah rubbed her hand over her mouth, closed her eyes, and sighed.

“Well, that makes things difficult,” she said, as she set the wash basket down on the kitchen counter.

“What do you mean, Ma?”

“I mean that we don’t have the money for more socks at the moment.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I still have the two on my feet. I can wash them myself every day.”

“No son of mine is going to be reduced to one pair of socks,” said Sarah sternly, “I’ll just… I guess we’re doing without for a bit. S’alright, I can take in my dresses again.”

Steve felt the bottom fall out of his stomach.

“No, Ma, you’ve got to eat,” said Steve.

“Oh don’t worry about it, Stevie, I can skip a few meals to keep my son properly clothed,” she said with a sad smile.

“No--”

“There’s just one thing I still don’t understand.”

“Ma please--”

“Where’d you hide them, Stevie?”

“You… um, what?”

“Your socks, love. Where’d you hide them?”

Steve felt his face get hot.

“Stevie, you’ve got 8 uncles back in Ireland and I was doing their washing as soon as I could pick up a basket. D’you really think this is the first time I’ve had to deal with spunk-filled socks?”

Steve’s eyes went wide and he shouted, “Ma!”

“In the future please stick to just one of them, Steve. And you better not tell me you threw out perfectly good socks just because you’ve been--”

“They’re in a ball somewhere on Carroll street, ok!?” said Steve.

Sarah blinked, and said, “Pardon?”

Steve closed his eyes and told his Ma what had happened as quickly as he could get the words out. When he was finished, he opened one eye to look and Sarah was biting her knuckle trying not to laugh.

“I swear, you and Bucky have one brain between you, and you take turns on who’s using it. And whoever’s turn it was yesterday must’ve… must’ve dropped it in the sock ball!” she said, in absolute hysterics by the time she got to the end.

“Please don’t skip meals to get me more socks, Ma. Please don’t,” said Steve.

Sarah sighed, wiped her eyes, then said, “Oh don’t worry, I won’t be.”

“Ma?” said Steve.

“I’m not buying new socks for a reason this stupid, Stevie. Get your jacket, we’re going to Carroll street.”

***

“If I had to do that with my mom,” said Rhodey from the spot on the floor where he was lying, spread eagle, absolutely breathless with laughter, “I would melt into a puddle of embarrassment and ooze down into the sewers, and the next time you’d see me you’d be fighting me as a mortified sewer monster.”

“Steven, son of Sarah,” said Thor, one hand on his gut and the other wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes, “I do believe you are winning for the most embarrassing story.”

“That... also means a lot, coming from you,” said Steve grudgingly.

“Did you find the socks?” asked Natasha.

“We did. They were half buried in horse manure but intact. They never completely lost the smell, though. And Ma wouldn’t let me buy new ones until I learned to knit them myself after that.”

“Man, your mom was something else, Steve,” said Clint.

“She was,” said Steve, “You know she was a genius too?”

“Really? Even by this room's standards?” said Jane.

“Yep,” said Tony, “The Smithsonian had one of her notebooks. I based the latest back-plate design for the armor on some of her work in tessellation.”

Bruce chuckled and said, “God, in another universe Steve’s mom got the super soldier serum and the Avengers initiative became the ‘Call Sarah Rogers and let her handle it’ program.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” said Steve, smiling broadly.

“What did Bucky say when he heard what happened?” asked Clint.

“Oh Bucky laughed harder than any of you did. I genuinely thought I’d given him an asthma attack. But he eventually got it together and told me I’d need to find my own dates from now on, because he couldn’t in good conscience foist such a human disaster on any more girls he knew.”

“Their loss,” said Tony with a grin, and Steve squeezed his hand.

“Anyway, that about sums it up. You are now all fully briefed on the events of the Chinese restaurant bathroom,” said Steve.

“Guess that means I’m sending us off,” said Clint with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is brought to you by crappy 1930s sex education! But since sex ed hasn't improved much since then, for the folks at home, here's a primer on dick size and why you shouldn't care about it (in my experience, dick size preference is pretty low on the list for what the people I know who like having sex with dicks look for on a first date; also, some people prefer smaller dicks): https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/teens/puberty/are-my-penis-and-testicles-normal
> 
> If you want to pack your pants anyway, that's rad! It's your body, put lumps where you want'em! There's lots of youtube videos on how to do it properly so you don't end up pulling sock balls out of manure piles on Carroll street with your mom.


	8. Just Like Robin Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief mention of some shitty Howard Stark parenting.

“Mine’s not as bad as that, but it’s still pretty funny,” said Clint with a smirk.

“You’re being modest, yours is _hilarious_ ,” said Nat with a smile.

Clint looked up at Natasha and said, “You’re not gonna let me tell this one without annotating, are you?”

“Nope,” said Natasha with a wicked grin.

“Alright,” said Clint as he put down his beer, “This one happened--”

“Excuse me, master Barton,” said Jarvis, “I’m afraid there’s an urgent call for you and Sir. Director Fury has requested both of you to take a private video conference.”

Clint started and said, “Me and _Stark_?”

“Yes, master Barton,” said Jarvis.

Tony put away his phone and said, “Maybe he wants our cookie recipes.”

“Aw man, are we going to have to wait until we’re all in town again to hear Clint’s story? Because that’s gonna be a while,” said Rhodey.

“Hang tight for a bit. If Fury didn’t ask us to suit up then I don’t think this’ll take long,” said Tony.

Clint and Tony walked down the hallway to the conference room reserved exactly for this sort of thing and closed the door behind them.

“I know you think Nat’s the only one who can read your tells, Clint, but the rest of us aren’t as clueless as you think,” said Tony.

That was when Clint realized Jarvis hadn’t pre-emptively rolled down the projector screen. Which meant there was no video call to take.

“Tony--” started Clint.

“Natasha only jumps in like that when she thinks you need backup. And the only reason I can think of for you needing backup is that you’re about to make up a story off the top of your head. Am I wrong?” said Tony.

_Damn it_ , thought Clint. Tony may have been right about Nat being his tell, but she wasn’t here in the conference room, so he slipped on the familiar mask and got ready to lie his way out.

“Wow, Stark, you faked a call from _Fury_ because you thought--”

“And now I know your story doesn’t involve Shield secrets, because you would’ve taken this opportunity to tell me if it did,” said Tony.

“Yeah, because I don’t _have_ a story. And _excuse me_ for thinking I should--”

“Nat’s not your only tell, Clint. There’s a story. You’re just not going to tell it.”

Clint crossed his arms. Tony was wasted in tech; clearly his true talents were in interrogation.

“I’m going to keep this simple, Clint. What you’re planning to do right now? It’s a really shitty thing to do to your friends. Your friends that _trusted_ you with--”

“Oh _fuck you_ , Tony. You only started this whole thing because you wanted to entertain yourself and brag about your sex life, not because you were trying to build trust orwhatever bullshit you’re selling right now.”

“Yeah, Clint, I did. Honestly I expected the whole thing to peter out after the 2 or 3 most shameless of us finished telling our stories. I expected Jane to fold like a house of cards and then we could all call it a night. But she didn’t, and neither did Nat or Steve or anyone else, because they _trust us_ and apparently you don’t.”

“Oh, go to hell, Tony.”

“Are you mad because I didn’t say something personal, Clint? Do you want me to go out there and tell Rhodey I lied to him, that I did end up going to jail for that stunt? That I didn’t even have to go to jail, but my dad decided I needed to be taught a lesson? That the best way he could think to teach me that lesson was to tell the lawyer to make sure I was tried as an adult so I could spend three months getting properly fucking traumatized in gen-pop? Is that what you want?”

“ _Fuck_ \--”

“No, this is not a Tony pity party, Clint. This is about you, not me.” Then Tony added, “If it’s too personal just pick your _second_ most embarrassing sex story, Barton.”

“Believe it or not some of us don’t sleep with a lot of people, Stark. And yeah, my story is objectively funny and everyone out there is going to be rolling around on the floor when I’m done, but it _means_ something to me, Tony.”

There was quiet for a bit, then Tony said, “You know we only laugh at the memories we cherish, right?”

Clint did his best to ignore the feeling of shame building in the back of his mind.

Tony gave a resigned sigh and said, “Look, if you want to make some shit up, I won’t call you on it out there. But I figured before you did, someone should tell you it’s a shitty thing to do to your friends who let their guard down for you so you could know them a little better. Who just want to know you a little better. And that you’d probably regret lying more than you’d regret telling the truth.”

Clint exhaled slowly and uncrossed his arms. Because Tony was right - at this point, he would definitely regret lying more than telling the truth.

“Fine, ok. You win,” said Clint.

Tony blinked and said, “Really?”

“Yep. But you’re doing the extra explaining to Steve and Thor when the time comes.”

Tony arched an eyebrow and said, “History or kinky shit?”

“What do you think?” said Clint with a smirk.

Tony grinned and said, “I cannot _wait_ to hear this.”

They went back into the common room and sat down in the spots they’d vacated.

“What did Fury want?” asked Steve.

“Paperwork error, if you’ll believe it,” said Tony.

Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony, and Nat did the same at Clint. Clint and Tony returned looks that said, _We’ll talk about it later_.

“Alright, take it away, Clint and Nat,” said Bruce.

“You know, I think I’m gonna tell a different story, actually,” said Clint, “One embarrassing enough that Nat doesn’t even know about it.”

Natasha’s eyebrows damn near disappeared into her hairline. A second later she was signing, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. We’ll talk later,” Clint signed. Then he tossed back the last of his beer, rolled his neck with some audible pops, and said, “Pay attention, kids. Time to learn why to this day, Clint Barton feels really weird about birthday gifts.”

***

“You should’ve ____ me it _____ your birthday!” said Rosa.

“Why does it matter?” said Clint.

They were speaking in Spanish over a bowl of guac and chips in Rosa’s Dad’s restaurant in downtown Dallas. The ambient noise was high enough that his hearing aids were nearly useless, and his Spanish was barely passable, but Clint had his whole 17 years of life as a Deaf kid to fall back on. Piecing together what people were saying from sentence fragments was practically his superpower.

“I didn’t get you a ____!” said Rosa.

“We only met yesterday. And my family doesn’t really do gifts anyway,” said Clint.

“But I could’ve taken you _____! We could’ve ____ to a movie, or… I hear the _circus_ is in town,” said Rosa with a grin.

“Not for much longer, though,” said Clint with a wistful smile. He took her hand and said, “Will I see you before we leave tomorrow?”

“I was hoping you’d think about ______ _______ tonight, actually,” said Rosa, and if the words weren’t clear the half-lidded eyes and the bite of her lip was.

“That sounds like a great birthday gift to me,” said Clint with a grin.

“Maybe this year, but when you ______ next year I’m getting you something _____,” said Rosa, “But I don’t _____ know anything about you, _____ that you work for the circus.”

Clint sighed. He’d been holding on to this _one thing_ in his life that wasn’t about his act, but they were now well past the point where it was weird for Clint not to tell her. Of course, that was when he realized that while he knew the Spanish words for “bow” and “arrow” and “target” from speaking with the stage hands, he didn’t actually know the word for “archer,” since he was the only one using those props. Which meant he’d have to use the analogy that every archer dreaded.

“Um… you know Robin Hood? I’m like that,” said Clint.

There was a pause, and then Rosa’s eyes went sly.

“A ____? Like the _____ movie?” she asked.

“Yeah, like that,” said Clint.

“Really!?” she practically squealed, “Me too!”

“No way,” said Clint, trying to look excited but secretly dying inside. A million pretty girls in Texas and he landed the amateur archer, which meant this was all they’d be talking about for the rest of the night. Fucking fantastic.

“Yeah! I’m ____ new, though. I’ve been interested for a ______ time, but I wasn’t brave ____ until recently to join Dallas’s _____ community.”

“Well, that’s me,” said Clint with a shrug.

“And you’re a ____? Like him?”

“Yep,” said Clint.

_Please don’t ask to go shooting with me, please don’t ask to go shooting with me, please don’t--_

“My suit isn’t ____ yet, but I should _____ you my drawings. If you want to ____ to my room?” said Rosa with a suggestive arch of her eyebrow.

Clint breathed a sigh of relief, leaned in, and said, “I’d love to. Lead the way.”

***

“Man, I don’t even know where this story is going but by now I can _feel_ it,” said Rhodey, “Like the Jaws music is playing and it’s just a question of which direction the shark attack is going to come from.”

Jane said, “Eight of us here and three have embarrassing sex stories related to language barriers. What’re the odds? Thor, you clearly lucked out.”

“Indeed,” Thor agreed heartily, “Although All-speak does lose some of the nuance of the native language it interprets. Which is why I’ve been trying to learn some English. Watch this,”

Thor tilted his head back and boomed, “HALLOW. I AHM SPIKING AINGLISH!”

Everyone burst into a fit of giggles, and then immediately started nursing their sore abdominals.

“That’s great, babe. Let me know if you ever want to practice,” said Jane.

“I while!” grinned Thor.

“Thor, please don’t make me laugh right now,” groaned Tony, “My gut wasn’t made for this many belly laughs in one night. I want to save all future laughs for the payoff at the end of Clint’s story.”

“There’s two payoffs,” said Clint, “And we’re getting to the first one.”

Tony sat up eagerly and said, “Go on.”

“Well, me and Rosa went back to her room and did what horny teenagers do, then I left the next day. And the next year when the circus came back to Dallas I figured I’d see her again if she was still single. And she was. But I didn’t know that in the intervening time she’d been… busy.”

“Busy?” said Natasha.

Clint rubbed his face, then said, “Jarvis? Could you put up pictures of movie posters for all the major Robin Hood movies on the tv?”

Jarvis did, and Clint turned to everyone else and said, “Do you see it?”

Tony saw it first.

“ _Nooooo_ ,” he said, as horror and delight took over his face.

“What is it?” said Nat, clearly agitated it was her turn to be out of the loop.

“Jarvis, get rid of all of them except the one in the bottom left hand corner,” said Clint.

Disney’s animated _Robin Hood_ took over the screen, and it wasn’t long after that almost everyone else got it, usually with a matching delighted and horrified, “Noooo!”

“I’m a little afraid at what I’m about to learn,” said Steve in a small voice.

“Me too,” said Thor, although his fear sounded more like the anxious, excited fear at the top of a roller coaster.

“Sorry, guys, you turned your keys tonight too,” said Clint. Then he turned to Tony and said, “Alright, Tony. Have fun explaining what a furry is.”

***

“Babe! I’m not… is [kinkshame] a word in Spanish? I’m not doing that!” shouted Clint up at the second story window.

Clint ducked as one of his shoes got thrown out the window at his head.

“I thought you were different!” screamed Rosa, tears streaming down her face and disappearing into the fuzzy neck of the bottom part of her fursuit.

“I’m just not into that, Rosa! Look we can still… just not like that, ok?” yelled Clint.

“Do you know how hard I worked on this!?” shrieked Rosa, “How many hours I put into this?”

“Baby, I--”

Clint almost didn’t duck in time to miss his other shoe coming straight for him. _Great, both shoes and still no pants_ , Clint thought dully. She needed to either let him back inside so they could talk this misunderstanding out or she needed to hurry up and throw down the rest of his clothes. Even suburban Dallas was chilly when it was night time and January and you were stuck outside in your boxers.

“You said you were *hic* a ____ like Robin Hood!” shouted Rosa.

And then Clint realized the word he’d assumed meant ‘archer’ did not mean archer. And that Rosa’s Robin Hood of choice was _not_ Errol Flynn.

“I shoot arrows! For the circus!” shouted Clint.

“Then why did you tell me you were a_____!” shouted Rosa.

Yep, there was that word again. Time for Clint to expand his Spanish vocabulary.

“Spanish isn’t my first language!” yelled Clint, “And I thought--”

Denim pants came flying out the window. _Thank God_ , thought Clint as he stepped into them.

“I showed you my _drawings_ ,” spat Rosa.

“Yeah, and they were great!” said Clint, “But I thought you just _drew_ this stuff, not--”

“Shut up! Shut up and go away!” shouted Rosa.

Clint hugged his stomach to keep warm, then said, “Can I have the rest of my clothes please?”

Rosa threw out his socks and tee shirt, and Clint had the shirt over his head when something heavy hit him in the face and knocked him on his ass.

“Happy birthday, pendejo,” sniffed Rosa as she closed the window.

Clint blinked. It was dark, and he couldn’t see what had knocked him down except that it was large and felt like it was covered in black vinyl. He was reaching for it when the porch light came on and Rosa’s father came out, shotgun in hand.

“You have 5 seconds--” started Rosa’s dad.

If he said something else, Clint didn’t hear him. He picked up the black mass and ran down the block. 15 minutes later he stopped at the bus stop and caught his breath.

“ _Jesus_ ,” muttered Clint, “I’m never going to a hook up unarmed ever again.”

Clint felt his pockets and almost cried with relief that his wallet hadn’t been lost in the shuffle. After he was satisfied he had enough money to take the bus back to the fairgrounds, Clint turned his attention to the heavy thing Rosa had thrown at him. Now with the streetlight he could see it was a garment bag containing something big and bulky. He opened it and looked inside.

“Oh my god,” said Clint quietly as he looked in the eyes of the head-piece, “She made me a fucking fursuit.”

***

“I really should’ve checked if it was possible to hulk out from laughing so hard,” said Bruce with a gasp, “This is too much. I _can’t_.”

“I’m so glad this is the last story,” wheezed Jane, “I don’t think I could take another one.”

“What animal did she pick?” asked Thor, who’d only learned what a furry was 15 minutes ago and was clinging to the one detail he could think of to ask about.

“A fox, like the cartoon. Because apparently I’d said that was my fursona, back when I had no idea what she was saying,” said Clint.

“Wait, how’d she get your measurements?” said Rhodey.

“I figured she probably measured me while I slept over at her place the last time we were together, to keep it a surprise,” said Clint.

“Wow,” said Tony, as he smiled and shook his head, “She must’ve really liked you.”

Everyone turned toward Tony, who then rolled his eyes and said, “This is what happens when you’re the only person on the team who makes his own super-suit. Jarvis? How long does it take to make a fursuit?”

“Most professional custom fursuit manufacturers spend a year working on each suit,” replied Jarvis.

“Yeah that’s… kind of why I kept it, actually.”

“You _kept it_? Where?” said Natasha incredulously.

“You know that storage locker you found out I had in Dallas? The one I moved before you could get to it and is now somewhere you’ll never find?”

Natasha smiled and said, “Well now I’m _definitely_ going to find it, because I need to see this.”

“Good luck,” said Clint. Then he added, “But yeah, I couldn’t just throw it out. She’d put so much care into it.”

Then Clint turned toward Tony and said directly to him, “It’s also the first and, until today, the only thing anyone’s ever given to me that wasn’t related to my job. So yeah, it was funny and misguided, but it was… meaningful.”

Natasha swore in Russian, then said, “Fuck, I’m sorry Clint. I thought you just hated your birthday.”

Clint waved her off and said, “It’s fine. God knows I don’t give you all a lot of hints on non-archery stuff I like. And Tony, don’t you _dare_ stop making me cool bows and arrows. I really do _like_ archery. But at that point in my life, it was the only thing anyone valued me for. And it was nice to have someone try and see… something else. Even if it was the wrong thing.”

“What do you mean until today? None of us got you anything but cake,” said Tony.

“Sure you did. All these stories are the best birthday present I’ve ever had,” said Clint.

There was a beat, then Tony said, “Yeah, that’s unacceptable.”

“No, Tony, let’s end tonight on a warm and fuzzy note,” said Clint.

“To hell with warm and fuzzy, next year you are getting cool shit that is not job-related. Jarvis? I need you to start paying attention to the stuff Clint likes,” said Tony.

“Yes, sir,” said Jarvis.

“I’m gonna need to see whatever list you come up with, Jarvis,” said Bruce.

“Me too,” said Steve.

Clint laughed to mask some warm and fuzzy feelings of his own that were threatening to manifest on his face if he didn’t. “ _Christ_ , I’m going to sing _one_ Grateful Dead song in the shower and get inundated with Deadhead gear.”

“Usually it’s Britney Spears you’re singing, sir,” said Jarvis.

“Is that so?” said Bruce thoughtfully, “My dad has an in with her manager. Next time she’s in town I can probably get tickets.”

“Steve, you just said you knit socks right? What do I have to pay you for a sweater in Clint’s size that says ‘This is what a furry looks like’?” asked Tony.

“Not enough money in the world,” chuckled Steve.

“Oh I wasn’t talking about paying in _money_ ,” said Tony with a mischievous grin.

“Alright, before these two start flirting again, I need to get out of here,” said Rhodey, as he got up and stretched.

“Yeah, I’ve got a zoom meeting with some herpetologists in Argentina in...” Bruce looked at his watch and exclaimed, “Two hours!?”

Rhodey looked at his own watch and groaned, “Gina’s gonna kill me.”

“Tell her we got a call to fight an evil Greek sentient sock ball in a fursuit driving an ice cream truck. That’s practically a Tuesday for us,” said Tony.

“Ah yes, of course. The villainous scoundrel Mr. Dick,” said Thor as he stood up.

Jane swatted his elbow and he laughed.

“I better get back down to the lab. I told Dummy to sweep the floor until I got back, and he starts getting liberal with his interpretation of what counts as a floor after a few hours. But this was… fun?” asked Tony.

“Yeah, Tony. This was fun,” confirmed Natasha with a pat on his back.

They all parted ways and headed to their various rooms. But before Tony could get to his lab, two people caught up with him.

“Thanks, Stark,” said Clint, clapping him on the shoulder before he headed down the stairs to his floor.

Steve walked up behind Tony and said, “What happened in the conference room, babe?”

Tony smiled and said, “Man, everybody wants to know what I say one-on-one to my teammates in enclosed spaces.”

“ _Tony_ ”

“Ask me on _your_ birthday and we’ll see what happens,” said Tony with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what the Spanish word for "furry" or "fursona" or "fursuit" is and google was surprisingly unhelpful. I imagine that if they're just the English words borrowed over, Clint's hearing aids were still messed up enough and he was so not expecting Rosa to be in that headspace that he assumed she was saying something else he could nod through.
> 
> Anyway, that's the end! Thank you all so much for reading. It'd make my day if you left a comment letting me know what you liked, and whose story you liked best :)


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